


Symphonic Artistry

by Khandy_Raynne



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Domestic Violence, Drama, Explicit Language, F/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-04-06 06:07:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 83,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14050587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khandy_Raynne/pseuds/Khandy_Raynne
Summary: An aloof artist sees through the facade of a depressed pianist. They become one another's muse, but also something much more. [Edited version on FFNet]





	1. The Pianist

 

Her fingers dance across the ivory keys of the grand piano. She sat upright as she played, her eyes closed. The music was smooth and soft. After a few experimental notes, she opened her eyes and stopped playing. Next to her on her stool was a pad and pen. She immediately wrote down a few notes and then went back into her position of solitude. This went on for hours.

After the third hour, her tranquility was interrupted by the sound of someone entering her home. "Bulma love, I'm home!" came the voice of her boyfriend.

Bulma Briefs stiffened at his voice. She did not turn her head as she heard him enter the parlor. Instead, she started to stack her papers. "You're home early. I haven't even chosen what we're going to eat for dinner yet," she said quietly.

Frieza Cold, her boyfriend, walked in. He looked at her as she hurriedly put her sheet music in order. "I thought I'd come home early and surprise you." He produced a small box out of his pocket. Bulma looked at it as he held it to her face. "Go on and take it," he said.

The pianist took the box and opened in. Inside were a pair of sapphire earrings that easily matched the color of her eyes. Bulma pasted a smile on her face. "Thank you, Frieza," she said. Frieza nodded and began to walk out of the room. "Is there anything you would want me to have Puella make?" she asked before he left the room.

"I'm not in the mood for anything particular. Anything you want is fine, Bulma," Frieza said as he left the room.

Bulma sighed and sat the jewelry box on the top of the piano.  _It matters, Frieza. It always matters_ , she thought dismally.

After arranging her papers, Bulma made her way through the brownstone she shared with Frieza. The place used to be her parents'. When Dr. and Mrs. Briefs had passed, they left their cherished brownstone to Bulma along with a hefty inheritance. It was not like Bulma needed it, though. As a world-renowned pianist, she made her own fair share of money. When she had suggested donating a large sum of it to charity, Frieza had scoffed at the idea.

When Bulma walked in the kitchen, Puella the maid was cleaning the counters. The brownstone was very old-fashioned and it still had the same counters and cupboards as when it was first built. They had been furbished and refurbished a few times over the years, but they still looked good as new. The only things to change was the stove and refrigerator.

"Good evening, Miss Bulma. Did Mr. Cold tell you what he wants for dinner tonight?" she asked. Puella was a portly woman with a very dignified air about her. Even though she was a simple maid, she carried herself with more elegance than most socialites. She was also like a surrogate mother to Bulma, having cared for her when she was a child.

"Of course he didn't tell me, Puella. I suppose something simple will do for tonight. Just make sure it's something that can be made in a relatively short period of time," Bulma replied. She leaned against the counter near the refrigerator. "I'll take my dinner in my room, though."

Puella raised an eyebrow. "If that is what you want," she said.

Bulma nodded and left the kitchen. She went up the stairs to her bedroom. She had a concert tomorrow night and she needed to rest. She always played better when she was well-rested. Besides, she had been writing music all day and her eyes were weary. When she got to her bedroom, she saw that Frieza had already been through it. His suit, shoes, and shirt were strewn across the floor, as if he'd just stepped out of them as he entered the room. Sighing, Bulma began to clean up after him.

Frieza came out of the bathroom dressed in lounging clothes. He smiled when he saw Bulma cleaning up. "I called some of my associates over. I hope Puella is making enough food."

"Perhaps you should go tell her that, Frieza," Bulma said as she discarded his clothes in a hamper.

"I will. But, could you go pick up some of that lovely vodka I tried the other day? I believe we only have enough left for one glass."

The pianist sighed. "Frieza, I just bought that vodka two days ago. Surely you could not have gone through three bottles in that short amount of time." Bulma looked at him. Looking back on the past couple of days, she could see how Frieza could have gone through all that alcohol. "I really wish you'd stop drinking so much. It isn't healthy."

Frieza shot her a look. "I'll decide what's healthy for me. Just go get the damn vodka." He hit her lightly on her bottom, making her jump a bit. "It's getting dark. You had better hurry," he said as he left the room.

Bulma muttered a string of curses under her breath. If Frieza heard half of the things she said when he angered her, she wouldn't be able to play the piano for weeks, let alone show her face outside of her bedroom. She went in search of her purse and coat. When she made her way downstairs, she could smell Puella's cooking. She could also hear Frieza laughing jovially. He seemed to be on the phone. Rolling her eyes, Bulma went out the front door and down the stoop of the brownstone.

* * *

It was a blustery evening. The streetlights had come on as the sun was setting. The crisp autumn air made Bulma shiver momentarily. She crossed her arms and headed up the street. The liquor store was three blocks up the street. Usually Bulma would call a cab, but she felt like walking.

After picking up another five bottles of vodka, Bulma took her time getting back to her home. She took the time to look at her surroundings. She noticed the lights on in what she knew to be an unoccupied brownstone. She saw a few men carrying rectangular objects wrapped in paper up the stoop. Squinting in the darkness, she noticed a familiar face. "Goku!"

The man with unruly hair turned to face Bulma. He almost dropped what he was carrying as he tried to wave at her. "Hi, Bulma!" He sat the wrapped object down and walked down the stoop. They met on the sidewalk. "I forgot you lived over here."

"I've been a horrible friend. I haven't seen you and Chichi since your wedding. That was what? Four years ago?" Bulma asked.

"Five, actually. You shouldn't blame yourself, though. We haven't exactly been coming to visit either. Friendship is a two-way street. How's Frieza?" Goku smiled at her.

"Well, we're still together, if that's what you're asking. We're still going strong," she answered while looking away. She knew Goku noticed her attitude towards the question, so she decided to immediately change the subject. "Are you moving down here?"

Goku looked back at the working men. "Uh, no. I'm helping a friend move in here. He just bought this brownstone. These are his paintings we're carrying in right now," he said. "It never dawned on me that you lived over here, too. I guess it completely skipped my mind."

Bulma looked down at the rectangular package. "So he likes art, eh?"

"He has to on some level. He's an artist and a photographer." Goku snapped. "Why don't you come in and meet him? You guys will be neighbors. You might as well say hello." He grabbed Bulma's arm before she could say anything in protest. He pulled her up the stoop and into the brownstone. Bulma put the bottles she was carrying down by the front door.

"Goku, I don't want to intrude. I'm sure I can meet him on my own..."

"Kakarrot, what the hell are you doing?"

Bulma blinked. It was not often she heard someone use Goku's real name. Only his father and brother ever called him by it. She grew up going to school with him and had not known his real name until they were almost in high school. She then turned her attention to who had spoken. He was not as tall as Goku, but his demeanor made him seem taller. Bulma decided it was either that or his peculiar hairstyle.  _I wonder how he gets it to stand straight up like that_ , she thought idly.

"Kakarrot, I'm not paying you to slack off," he said. Then he noticed Bulma. His attitude did not change. He wrinkled his nose as if he smelled something offensive and glared at her. "Who's she?"

Goku sighed. "Vegeta, this is Bulma Briefs. She's one of my closest friends and your new neighbor. Bulma, this is Vegeta Ouji. He's a college buddy of mine," he said. He moved out of the way so Bulma and Vegeta could see each other.

He was good-looking; Bulma would give him that. His facial expression had not softened after the initial introduction. Bulma took the moment of silence to step forward and extend her hand. "Hi. Nice to meet you." She held it out, waiting for him. He looked down at her hand and shook it roughly. His grip was almost too firm. Bulma pulled away with a nervous smile. "Careful there. I make a living with my hands."

Vegeta smirked. "So do I."

"That's right! Bulma, you have a concert soon, don't you? Chichi did mention she saw a poster for it." Goku looked back at Vegeta. "Bulma is a pianist."

"I have one tomorrow. I can get you and Chichi in if you don't already have tickets," Bulma said, tearing her eyes away from Vegeta. He was burning holes in her with his eyes. He was not looking at her with a lustful eye as so many men do on a regular basis. Instead, it was a critical eye. It was as if he was deciding something.

Goku clasped his hands together. "That'd be wonderful! I'm sure Chichi would love to see you! How about you, Vegeta? You wanna come?"

Vegeta cut his sharp eyes to Goku. "I have better things to do with my time than attend a concert, Kakarrot. I don't have time for leisure outings." He turned and walked away from the two, directing the other movers where to put things.

Goku scratched the back of his head and faced Bulma again. "Vegeta's always cranky like that. You've gotta get used to his attitude. He's a big softy on the inside, though. At least it'll be nice seeing Frieza again."

Bulma gasped. "Frieza!" She turned and hurried out of the house. She could hear Goku calling after her. "I'm sorry but I have to go, Goku! I'll put your names on the guests' list for tomorrow, ok?" She picked up the alcohol she left on the stoop and waved goodbye as she rushed next door.

Goku stopped smiling as he looked at the brownstone Bulma had disappeared into. He got the feeling there was something Bulma was not telling him. In the five years that they went without seeing one another, something had changed. She never used to be so demure and reserved. Bulma was known for being loud and vivacious. She had always been the life of the party, not a shrinking violet. Goku thought she was a shadow of herself now.  _I could just be overthinking things. I haven't seen her in so long, after all. Maybe Chichi can get a better read on her_ , he thought. He turned and went back to helping the movers.

* * *

Bulma came through the entrance a little more noisily than she thought. She hurried to the kitchen. Puella was there, finishing up the meal. "You're almost done with dinner?"

"Yes. Mr. Frieza is getting impatient. His friends have come over."

"Which ones?" Bulma asked as she hurriedly put some of the beers in the freezer.

"Dodoria and Zarbon, I believe."

Bulma shuddered. Dodoria was a pervert, but Zarbon was decent enough. He seemed to be Frieza's voice of reason most times. "Has he been drinking?" She did not need to specify who she was talking about. She saw Puella nod slowly. "I'll take my food in my..."

"You're back late. I know it didn't take that long just to pick up some vodka." Frieza walked in the kitchen. He still had a bottle in his hand. "Where've you been for so long?"

She briefly contemplated lying to him. She made her way past him and into the hall towards the stairs. "I just got caught talking to the new neighbor. He seemed nice. He's an artist," she said, not looking at Frieza. She knew he was still following her, though. "I didn't mean to be so late. I just lost track of the time. I've really got to get some rest now."

Frieza grabbed her arm and pulled her back down the steps to him. Bulma tried not to show how disgusted she was from the smell of alcohol coming from him. He opened his mouth to say something. Before he could, one of his friends yelled from the living room downstairs. He stared at Bulma a moment longer before releasing her.

Bulma watched him go back down the stairs, calling back to his friend. She let out a silent sigh.  _Saved by Dodoria. Never thought I'd see the day_ , she thought with a wry smile. She headed upstairs and to her bedroom.

* * *

Bulma's eyes popped open a few hours later. There was something going on downstairs. She had only one guess as to whom was making such a ruckus. She glanced at her alarm clock. It was just past 2am.  _I don't have time for this_. Bulma tried to roll over and go to sleep. However, she knew that Puella was long gone by this time of night.  _Damned if I do and damned if I don't_.

The pianist pulled herself out of her warm bed and picked up her peignoir from a chair across the room. She put it on in one fluid movement as she made her way to the door of the bedroom. As she opened the door, the full sounds of Frieza's drunken rant echoed throughout the empty stairwell. Bulma sighed and headed down two flights of stairs.

She found Frieza sitting on the stairs, singing drunkenly. The song was too garbled for her to understand any of the lyrics, let alone to figure out what the tune was. "Frieza dear, it's very late. Come on up to bed." As much as she hated it, Bulma knew he would want to wake up next to her when he sobered.

Frieza glared up at her. He was usually so proper and kept. Only a few knew what he was like when he had too much liquor in his system. An empty bottle of the new vodka was rolling around on the landing. "Allo, love. Shouldn' ya be sleepin'?" he asked. He slowly got to his feet. "Ya griped 'bout bein' up too late. Why're you down 'ere?" He took one step up, holding on to the railing.

A thought crossed Bulma's mind. For one instant she had one of the most violent and heinous thoughts in her life. She immediately cleared her mind of such a thought and then blinked. "Frieza, let's get you to bed now." She reached for him.

"I don' wanna." He held her away from him. Then he noticed what she had on. "Yer lookin' real pretty right now. Yer wearin' that nightie I like so much." Frieza tried to pull her back towards him.

"Darling, not tonight." Bulma countered. She held him at a distance, but tried to pull him up the stairs simultaneously. Frieza moved far quicker than she expected and tried to kiss her. Bulma immediately pushed him away. "Not tonight, Frieza. You're drunk. You need rest. Now come to bed."

Bulma's soft tone clearly did not sit well with Frieza. He backhanded her. She hit the wall and slid down it to sit. Before she could move, Frieza was on top of her. His breath was paralyzing to her. The fruity vodka smell was sickening. Did he really down the entire bottle? She took a deep breath through her mouth and pushed Frieza off of her with all her might. She got to her feet and turned away from him. She felt him pull on her peignoir and she turned and yanked the cloth out of his grasp.

"Ya've gotten a bit bold tonight, haven't ya?" Frieza yelled up at her. He got his bearings and went after her.

The pianist ran up the stairs and towards their shared bedroom. He was moving faster than she gave him credit for. That only meant he'd sobered up a bit during their scuffle. Sober Frieza was worse than drunk Frieza. Bulma reached their bedroom and slammed the door behind her. She locked it, ran to her bathroom and shut and locked the door. She paced, listening to Frieza attempt to get in their room. When he finally got into their bedroom, he marched right to her bathroom.

"Bulma, why must we go through this dance yet again?" he called to her. His slurred speech had almost completely disappeared. Bulma was amazed at how quickly he could sober up when he wanted to. He banged on the bathroom door, making her jump. "Bulma?"

 _He never yells. I think I wouldn't be so afraid if he were a screaming lunatic. But he never yells_ , Bulma thought as he began hitting the door. Usually, she opened it by now. Tonight, she just backed up towards the far wall of the bathroom. Eventually the door gave way and Frieza marched right on in. He gave her a lopsided smirk and advanced slowly.

* * *

Vegeta's eyes opened slowly. He was tired, but there was something going on outside his bedroom window. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. It sounded as though someone had slammed a door behind his brownstone. He walked to his window and peered outside of it. There was no one in his backyard, but there was light coming from the yard next door.

The blue-haired woman from earlier was standing on her porch. The porch light was shining on her back. She was dressed in her night clothes. Her hair was disheveled and she was trying in vain to straighten it out some. Vegeta continued to watch her for a moment as she tried to light a cigarette with shaking hands. When she finally lit it, she took a very long drag from it.

Vegeta glanced at his alarm clock beside his bed.  _Three in the morning. Why is she still up if she has a concert tomorrow_? He leaned against the window.  _She said her name was Bulma_... After a moment, Vegeta unlocked his window and opened it.

"Shouldn't you be asleep, woman?"

Her shoulders tensed and she nearly dropped her cigarette. She looked up towards Vegeta and squinted. "Um, Mr. Ouji?"

"Call me Vegeta."

"Um, okay. Did I wake you? I'm sorry. I just needed a smoke and my... partner prefers if I don't do it in the house. You know? Because of the smell."

Vegeta grunted. "Those cancer sticks will rot you from the inside out," he said.

Bulma smiled before chuckling softly. "I don't do it often. Sometimes it just helps me to relax. The alternative is going inside and pouring a glass of vodka. Then again, I'm sure there's little to none left for me to even get a slight buzz." She said the last part sarcastically and laced with derision. She took another long drag from the cigarette before dropping it and putting it out on the porch. "I should try to get more rest. Perhaps I'll see you tonight."

He said nothing else as she went back inside her own home.  _Who the hell gets up in the middle of the night to smoke? Is she mad_? Vegeta mused. She seemed so reserved and demure, but from what Goku had been going on and on about, she was anything but.  _Clearly the woman has changed over time_. Shaking his head, he shut his window and went back to bed.

* * *

Bulma arrived at the concert hall earlier than usual. As instructed earlier that morning, her personal assistant and best friend was there waiting for her. Juu Gero stood on the steps of the concert hall with her arms crossed. She watched as Bulma began to ascend the steps. When they were level, Bulma let out a long sigh.

Juu raised an eyebrow. "Long night?" she asked.

"A little. I was up late finishing a new piece. Are my clothes for tonight here?" Bulma took off her sunglasses and squinted at Juu in the bright sunlight. Juu nodded as Bulma put her sunglasses in her purse. "Then let's go see them."

As the two headed towards the dressing rooms, Juu began going through a list of things Bulma needed done before the concert started in three hours. "Your makeup artist will be here in about thirty minutes. He wants to see the dress so that he can think of a look he wants for you."

"I always wear black. What's to change about that?"

"But you never wear black makeup, or haven't you noticed that?" Juu watched Bulma shake her head. "Well, the chosen designers each sent two dresses for you to pick through. You'll need one for the concert and one for the after-party."

"Do I have to attend the after-party? Is it really necessary?" Bulma whined as they came to elevators. Juu just narrowed her icy blue eyes at Bulma. "Fine. I just don't feel like putting on the  _smile and wave_  act tonight. I just want to play the piano and go home. They can have all this  _starlet_  stuff."

Juu rolled her eyes as they entered the elevator. "Well, when you magically forget how to play the piano and that pretty face loses its luster, then you can go back to being normal. Until that day comes, you will be a  _starlet_." She noticed Bulma's melancholy expression. "Listen, Bulma. I know you hate that glamour part of this. I hate it too. I'd like nothing more than to go get a drink at some bar filled with hot men and loud music instead of a stuffy after-party. But I don't make these decisions."

The two came to the dressing room. When they entered, Bulma was a little shocked by the layout. The room was filled with red and white roses in glass vases. Bulma moved over to one and picked up the card. She rolled her eyes and sighed when she saw who they were from.

Juu's nose wrinkled at the sight of the flowers. "I thought you told Frieza you hate roses."

Bulma sat the card back in one of the bouquets. "I sure did. As with all things I tell Frieza, it goes through one ear and out the other. Make sure I end up with one of these in my hair. He'll be saddened if I don't show him that I appreciate the thought."

"That's all that counts, isn't it?" Juu's tone did not go unnoticed by Bulma. She glared at her friend. Juu raised her hands in surrender. "I'm just saying that I think you can do so much better than Frieza."

"Your opinion is duly noted. Let's pick one of these dresses."

* * *

The view from the private box in the concert hall was beautiful. Goku looked over the edge, watching people file in. They had a great view of the stage from their position. A hand grabbed hold of Goku's arm and pulled him down into his seat. He smiled and looked at his wife. "What is it?"

"Don't hang over the edge like that, Goku. What happens if you lose your balance?" Chichi chided. She took her cellphone out of her wristlet and looked at it. "No messages from the babysitter," she mumbled. Goku placed a hand over her cellphone and she glanced up at him.

"Chi, Gohan will be fine. Just relax. Everything will be fine."

Chichi pouted a bit. "I'm just not used to being away from him. He's just six months old."

"All the more reason why you need this night out. You haven't relaxed since you had Gohan. I promise he'll be fine for the night. Just enjoy yourself, please." Goku took her phone from her. Chichi nodded and smiled at him.

The door to the suite opened behind them. Goku turned to see Vegeta saunter inside, looking irritated. "Oh hi, Vegeta. I'm didn't think you'd come."

Vegeta sneered as he sat down beside Goku. "Where's your brat?" he asked, looking over at Chichi. Since he'd been born, Vegeta had not seen Chichi without the baby glued to her hip.

"A concert is no place for a baby. He's at home with a sitter. Goku seems to think he'll be just fine without me for one night. I don't quite agree with that but I've no choice but to  _relax_ ," Chichi said.

"Hn." Vegeta said no more and instead listened to Goku and Chichi chatter beside him. He watched as the hall filled to capacity. The audience seemed to murmur with an intense anticipation for the concert that was to come. There were quite a few important figures and famous people in the audience. Vegeta was happy that he'd decided to come in the back way. He did not do the  _red carpet_ , thinking it to be a waste of time.

"Well, look who it is..."

Goku turned around in his seat to see Frieza entering. As he usually was, he was dressed perfectly for the event. Goku stood to greet him. "It's been a while, Frieza. How have you been?"

"I've been great. Bulma didn't tell me she'd invited anyone," he said as he took a seat beside Chichi. He ignored the glare Chichi gave him. She'd never much cared for Frieza and had let him know it every chance she got. "She should've told me. I would've definitely seen to it that you all had refreshments."

"We're fine, but thank you. Oh! Frieza, this is my friend Vegeta. He's actually your new neighbor." Goku moved to the left so that Frieza could see Vegeta. Vegeta turned his head and immediately decided that he did not like Frieza.

Frieza could say the same. Something about Vegeta rubbed him the wrong way. "The pleasure is all mine. Bulma did indeed mention a new neighbor of ours. Perhaps we'll have a chance to better get to know one another."

Vegeta narrowed his eyes before looking away. "Perhaps," he mumbled.

* * *

Bulma looked at herself in the mirror. Her makeup artist had managed to once again make her look like something out of a futuristic fantasy. She had become known for her elaborate makeup during her performances. Dramatic eye makeup and outlandish hair were part of her  _act_. Sighing, Bulma looked down at her bare arms. Her eyes fell to the purplish bruises around her wrists against her pale skin. They were painfully noticeable. Sighing, she reached for her fingerless black gloves just as Juu entered the dressing room.

"Bulma, they're ready for..." Juu stopped talking when she saw Bulma's wrist. Bulma immediately tried to cover her wrist with the gloves. Juu stalked forward and took Bulma's arm in her own. "What the hell is this?" She looked at both of Bulma's wrists. "Bulma?"

The pianist snatched her arms out of Juu's hands and went back to slipping her gloves on. "It's nothing you need to worry about, Juu. I can still play perfectly fine." Bulma got to her feet. "Could you help me with the rose?" she asked, holding out a white rose.

Juu frowned but did as she was told. Once the white rose had been placed in Bulma's extravagant updo, she took a few steps back to admire Bulma's outfit. Her blue-haired friend wore a halter gown. The skirt was white with a layer of black organza surrounding it. The bodice was embellished with appliques. There was a small train, but nothing too long. Juu nodded her approval. Bulma nodded as well and turned to leave the room. Juu watched her best friend go with narrowed eyes.

 _This isn't over yet, Bulma. Not by a long shot_.

* * *

As the lights dimmed, the audience hushed. A single spotlight came on and shone down on the closed curtain. There was little sound as the curtain opened to reveal a black grand piano sitting lonely on the large stage. After a few moments of silence, a silhouette could be seen entering the stage left.

Vegeta did not clap as Bulma took her seat like everyone else. He could hear the excitement from Goku and Chichi beside him. Chichi was saying how beautiful Bulma's dress was while Goku was wondering what she would play. Vegeta concentrated on the woman far below him on the stage. She positioned her hands over the ivory keys. After a full 30 seconds, she began to play.

While it was definitely beautiful, the songs Bulma played were full of all the wrong emotions. There was clearly anger and sadness. What stuck out to Vegeta the most was that  _loneliness_  was among the emotions emanating through her music. How could someone like her be lonely? Vegeta looked over at the others and saw that Goku's smile had disappeared and Chichi had been moved to tears.

* * *

The concert lasted about 45 minutes. Once she finished, Bulma placed her hands in her lap and remained still for a moment. The audience erupted into applause and gave her a standing ovation. Bulma rose from the bench and walked to the front of the stage. With a straight face, she took a few bows. When she gathered a few of the stuffed animals thrown on stage, she finally smiled out at her audience. With a wave, she left the stage.

The hall was still clapping once Bulma was off the stage. She stepped behind the curtains and saw Juu smiling at her. "As usual, that was perfect. Let's hurry. We've got twenty minutes to get you changed and to the hotel for the party," she said. Bulma nodded and her stylist was already starting to undress her as they entered the elevator towards the dressing rooms.

* * *

"Will you all be attending the after-party as well?" Frieza asked as he rose from his seat. "I'm sure Bulma would be happy to see you all there. She did invite you after all."

"Yeah we are. The tickets she gave us have the location of the party on them. We'll see you there," Goku said. Frieza nodded and left the room humming happily to himself.

Chichi shivered as the door to the suite closed. "Even after all these years, he still gives me the creeps. What does Bulma see in that snake?"

"Come on, Chi. He's not that bad." Goku held out his hand and helped Chichi from her seat.

"He's a horrible man, Goku. Something about him just rubs me the wrong way. I'm a great judge of character and that man has never been any good. You seem to have forgotten the way he treated Bulma at our wedding. He was abhorrent."

Vegeta snorted as he got to his feet. "You say you're an excellent judge of character but always yell at me about my  _character_. Why do you allow me around if I'm so terrible?" he asked.

Chichi crossed her arms. "Vegeta, you are many things but a man of questionable character you are not. You at least own your faults to a point. And though you are definitely one of Goku's more... unsavory friends, you are at least trustworthy and dependable."

"Yeah! You did help deliver Gohan," Goku said as he clapped a hand on Vegeta's shoulder.

Vegeta shrugged him off. "A truly traumatizing experience, I assure you," he said with a small shudder.

* * *

Bulma was putting on a new pair of fingerless gloves when the door to her dressing room opened. Juu had left her alone to go make sure her ride was ready. She looked over the top of the bouquets to see Frieza entering the room. She slipped on the last glove and stood up. "I must say that you've outdone yourself with these roses. Any particular reason for so many?" she asked as Frieza approached her. He stopped in front of her and leaned in for a kiss. Bulma immediately diverted her head. "I just got my makeup redone, Frieza."

Frieza frowned momentarily but the expression was short-lived. He watched as Bulma walked around him and began gathering her wristlet and cellphone. He reached in his pocket. "Bulma, there's something I've been meaning to ask."

"What's that?" Bulma held her flowy white dress up and slipped on her heels. She faced Frieza to see him holding out a small jewelry box. "What's that?" she repeated. Frieza placed the box in her hand. Bulma sighed inwardly and opened it.

"Well?"

Bulma struggled to find words as she stared at the impressive engagement ring. It was at least 10 carats. She found herself wondering where Frieza got the money to buy such a ring. "I... don't know what to say, Frieza. It's beautiful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Frieza took the ring from her and slid it on her finger. "Just say..."

"Bulma, we're ready for you. Hi, Frieza. Will you be riding with us?" Juu entered the room with a few other men. She began directing them to gather the flowers up and where to put them.

"No, I'll drive there myself." Frieza pecked Bulma on her forehead. "See you there."

Juu came up beside Bulma as Frieza left the room. "Seems like he was in a good mood. Any reason why?" She looked at Bulma. Even with the faint blush on her cheeks, Bulma looked incredibly pale.

The pianist shook her head slowly. "No reason that I can think of. Let's go."


	2. The Artist

 

Vegeta grabbed a champagne flute off a passing waiter's tray. He could do without the drink but he doubted the bar had what he wanted.  _I could always go to the hotel bar_ , he thought. Then he caught sight of Goku and Chichi. Chichi in particular would talk his ear off if he went to get hard liquor. So, he gulped the champagne down in one swallow and placed the flute on another passing waiter's tray.

The after party was a sight to behold. The moment the blue-haired pianist came through the doors, the invited guests swarmed around her like she was their sun. Considering how reserved she appeared, Bulma handled the situation quite well with smiles and laughter. Unlike the people who surrounded her, Vegeta thought she was painfully transparent.

"Has she always looked like she would rather jump off a bridge, Kakarrot?" Vegeta asked. He could feel Goku's presence behind him.

Goku looked in Bulma's direction. She was standing next to Frieza and talking to the others in the room. "No. She was actually a pretty wild in high school. She loved partying and sneaking out to clubs." He noticed the look Vegeta was giving him. "She wasn't loose or anything like that. She just liked to have a good time. Her parents died right before me and Chi got married. After that, the last time we saw her was our wedding day."

Vegeta grunted. "Losing one's family tends to mellow a person out," he mumbled.

* * *

Bulma was growing tired of talking with the usual suspects of these functions; socialites and celebrities. She really just wanted to catch up with her friends. Since Frieza felt the need to announce their  _engagement_ , everyone had wanted to see the ring. She glanced around the room, searching for that unmistakable head of hair. She spotted Goku and excused herself quickly.

"I see you guys made it," Bulma said as she tapped Goku on the shoulder. He turned around and revealed Chichi. Bulma smiled and the two hugged one another. "It's been far too long since I've seen you guys."

Chichi laughed. "Well, you're the one who went and became all famous on us. Your playing was magnificent," she said.

"I'm glad you liked it, Chi. How have you been?"

"Well, Goku and I just welcomed our little boy into the world a few months ago..."

Bulma seemed genuinely surprised. "You had a baby?" she exclaimed. She glared at Goku and smacked him playfully on the arm. "Why didn't you tell me, you big lug? I could've brought a gift!"

"I didn't think it was important at the time. Besides, Chichi would've probably wanted to break the news to you anyway. She never misses a chance to show off Gohan," Goku said, laughing at Bulma's futile attempts at battery.

" _Gohan_? You named him after your grandfather? That's so sweet." Bulma looked back at Chichi. "Do you have any pictures of him yet?"

Chichi gasped. "Do I have  _pictures_?" She opened her wristlet and pulled out what amounted to a wallet full of photos. "What kind of question is that? Of course I have pictures!"

Bulma took the wallet from Chichi and flipped through the pictures. Gohan was a chunky baby who resembled both of his parents. Chichi had candid pictures as well as professional pictures. They were marked by how many days, weeks, and months old the baby was. "Geez, Chi. How did you get so many professionally done? Even I don't take this many pictures."

"Well, when you have friends in certain professions," she motioned in Vegeta's direction, "you can afford to splurge a bit," she said with a wink.

The pianist looked in Vegeta's direction. Despite his hair, Bulma had not noticed him. He blended into the crowd seamlessly. "I didn't know he came," she whispered. "Wait, he took these pictures? I thought he was just an artist." She handed the photos back to Chichi.

"Well, isn't a photographer an artist too? Vegeta paints more, but he takes photos as well. You should see those albums of his. If he ever shows you, make sure they aren't the  _black_  albums. If the album is made of black leather, insist on looking at another one."

Bulma raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. "Why?"

"Don't worry about it. Come on. Let's go talk to him. Vegeta!"

Vegeta noticed the women moving towards him. He thought about ignoring them and heading to the hotel bar for a proper drink, but then he saw the way Bulma was looking at him. She seemed almost happy. The expression she wore was a far cry from the somber, forced happiness she displayed among her peers. It appeared that being among friends brightened her mood considerably.

"Hi, Mr. Ouji. I hope you enjoyed the concert," Bulma said. For some reason, she felt shy around him. It was their third meeting in two days, but she still felt slightly intimidated by him.

 _Something about his eyes. His gaze is so... disarming_ , she thought. Then she realized that she had been staring and quickly looked elsewhere.

The flame-haired one smirked when he noticed Bulma's staring. "It was a... haunting experience," he said.

Bulma appeared confused for a moment. "Haunting? That's definitely one of the more original descriptions of my music. I've gotten sultry, dulcet, melodious, beautiful, enchanting, and a host of other adjectives. However,  _haunting_  was definitely not among them."

"Then perhaps the right people have not been reviewing your music." Vegeta finished off his drink and sat the glass down on a passing waiter's tray.

"Are you saying my music is terrible?" Bulma could feel her cheeks getting hot. She did not know if she was offended or not, but she did not like this critiquing of her work in the least. Perhaps it was because such a critique was coming from someone she barely knew.

"I said it was  _haunting_ , woman. That doesn't imply  _terrible_  in the least. That is the feeling your music gives. It most certainly isn't music one would play on a joyous occasion," Vegeta replied.

Bulma held her head high. "You certainly have a way with words, Mr. Ouji."

"I told you to call me  _Vegeta_ , woman." Vegeta noticed the ring on Bulma's finger. "That wasn't there yesterday. I take it your partner gave it to you," he stated. He watched Bulma looked down at her left hand. Before she could reply to him, Chichi held up Bulma's hand and examined the ring.

"Bulma, did Frieza give you this? Is that what all that extra fuss was about when you walked in?" Chichi asked. She noticed the way Bulma gently, but urgently pulled her hand away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell."

"No, it's fine, Chi. Yes, Frieza proposed to me after the concert." Bulma looked at the ring. "I actually never really said yes..."

Chichi's gasp was so loud that some people turned to look at her. She glared right back at them before turning her attention back to Bulma. "You didn't say yes?"

Bulma shrugged. "Frieza really didn't give me a chance to answer. He just kinda put it on and here I am."

"Well, do you want to?" Goku asked.

For some reason, the question took Bulma by surprise. She looked pointedly at Goku as if he had said something offensive. He shrugged and she glanced back down at the ring on her finger. "I... guess." Even Bulma had to inwardly sigh at her less than emphatic answer. Instead, she smiled and looked back at Chichi. "Enough about me. Tell me more about that baby of yours." Bulma took Chichi by the hand and led her towards the bar.

Goku and Vegeta watched the women walk away in silence. Vegeta grunted and turned away from them. He began walking towards the exit. Goku turned to face him. "Where are you going, Vegeta?"

"To the bar to get something real to drink. That sparkling water barely wet my whistle."

"Don't you have to drive?"

"No." With that, Vegeta was gone out of the room.

* * *

Bulma noticed Vegeta leave, but did not say anything to Chichi. Juu had come over with a few friends and began speaking with Chichi. Bulma smiled when she noticed that Juu and Chichi seemed to get along.

"You aren't seeing anyone? With that face, I'm surprised they aren't beating your door down," Chichi said with a small laugh.

Juu smirked and shook her head. "After my last relationship..."

"Juu, you can't even call that a relationship. You were fuck buddies," Bulma said airily. All heads turned towards Bulma. The pianist gulped down the rest of her red wine. "What? I was just stating the truth. That was anything but a relationship."

"To some extent, she's right. Still, I did like him, but not very much. I have a habit of going after these tall, dark, and handsome types that always turn out to be cocky jackasses. I have a weakness for a chiseled jaw and tight abs. I don't know how they always seem to find me."

"That's because you're looking in the wrong place, dear. If you want someone to have a decent relationship with, look somewhere besides at these functions. For instance, try the library," Chichi replied.

"The library? Who could she possibly find in the library?" the dark-haired vixen beside Juu asked.

Chichi giggled. "I can tell you what you won't find, Mai..."

* * *

Vegeta slid into the barstool out in the hotel bar. The bartender walked over to him and leaned forward. "Whiskey on the rocks," Vegeta said while reaching for the bowl of peanuts. The bartender nodded and moved to fix his drink. A few moments later, the bartender returned with his drink. Vegeta paid and swiveled in his seat to look at the surrounding area. It was mostly deserted except for the odd businessman or two. They mostly stayed in the armchairs near the mounted flat screen television.

Grabbing a handful of peanuts, Vegeta ate a few and took a gulp of his whiskey. He enjoyed the fire going down his throat for a moment. He told Goku the truth; he would not be driving back to the brownstone he just moved into. A few blocks down from the hotel, Vegeta still owned his old loft. He had wanted to rent it out, but figured that he could still use it to do his work in. Luckily, he had not moved the furniture, choosing instead to buy whole new sets for his new brownstone.

 _That bed is looking pretty good right about now_ , he thought. The day had been long and he could still hear Bulma's music in his head for whatever reason. He smirked when he thought of how she had come alive when she thought he had insulted her music. For that short moment, he could see what Goku had been talking about. She was definitely a spitfire.

A purple-haired woman pushed through the revolving door of the bar, interrupting the soothing silence. She was giggling drunkenly. Vegeta vaguely remembered seeing her at the party. He took another sip of his whiskey as another person came through the door. The whiskey was on its way down when Vegeta realized it was Bulma's  _partner_. He kept the glass to his face as he watched the man grab the woman around the waist. He pulled her roughly against him. Sighing, Vegeta turned around in his stool and ordered another drink.

As the bartender fixed his drink, Vegeta watched the other two make their way to the elevator across the room. When the door opened, the woman pushed Bulma's  _partner_  into it and pounced on him. A blind man could see what was going on between the two. Vegeta shook his head as the bartender returned with his drink.  _Disgusting. He just asked the woman for her hand_ , he thought. He held the glass at his lips for a moment, thinking if he should tell.  _Not my problem_ , he thought with a shrug. He downed the whiskey in one gulp, paid, and left the bar.

* * *

Bulma glanced around the emptying room. There were only a few stragglers left. The waiters were beginning to clean the room. Goku and Chichi had already left and she had not seen Vegeta since they last spoke.  _Where the hell is Frieza_?

"I'm ready to go. Would you like me to take you?" Juu asked as she made her way back over to Bulma. The pianist shook her head. "Well, let me know when you get home. A text or call will do. Night." Juu waved and left the ballroom.

Frustrated, Bulma stood around for another few minutes. Then she huffed and left the ballroom. Just as she was walking to the foyer of the hotel, Frieza was coming from the bar. He smiled when he saw her. He was only 10 feet from her when Bulma spotted the red smear on his face. She frowned momentarily but it was immediately replaced with a tight smile when Frieza was directly in front of her.

"Looks like you managed to get that cherry syrup from the cake on your face," Bulma said as she motioned to the stain on his face. Frieza appeared confused for a moment. Sighing, Bulma opened her wristlet and produced a handkerchief. She wiped the smear away. "There you go."

Frieza leaned forward and gave her a small peck on the cheek. "Thanks. You ready?"

"I was ready an hour ago, dear," Bulma said with a forced smile.

* * *

Goku pushed the slightly ajar nursery door open quietly. The room was dark except for a small nightlight on the side of the room opposite the crib. Chichi was standing by the crib, holding their infant son. The baby had woken up the moment his parents walked in the house. Now, Chichi was holding him and trying to get him to sleep. When Chichi turned her back to the door, little Gohan caught sight of his father and began squirming to reach for him.

Chichi noticed Gohan's sudden movement. He had almost been asleep. What happened? She turned to see Goku standing in the doorway. "Goku! You're not helping! You know how excited he gets when he sees you!" Chichi held her son out at an arm's length. Gohan was giggling and still reaching for his father. Exhausted, Chichi marched over to Goku and practically dumped the baby in his arms. "You get him to sleep. I'm tired and I think I drank a little too much of that sparkling cider." Chichi left the room.

Goku looked down at his son, who was now finding his spit bubbles interesting. "Let's get you to sleep, little man."

It was not until after Chichi had changed and was currently brushing her hair that Goku finally dragged himself into their bedroom. She smirked triumphantly at the decidedly beat expression on his face. "Not so easy trying to get Gohan to sleep, is it? Maybe now you'll appreciate my talent for it a bit more."

"Where does he get the energy?" Goku whined as he began undressing. "I feel like babies need far less sleep than the average human. Gohan'll be back awake in two hours max."

"And in two hours max, you will be the one getting up to put him back to sleep." Chichi smiled when she saw the exasperated look on Goku's face in the mirror. She sat the brush down and began braiding her hair. "I'm going to stop by Bulma's tomorrow afternoon. I'll see if she has any ideas about her wed... What's with the face?"

Goku pulled on his pajama pants and walked over to the vanity Chichi sat at. He watched her finish the long braid and stand to face him. "I don't know about that. She didn't exactly look ecstatic about being engaged to Frieza."

"Well, that's the other reason I'm going over. I want to see if this is something she wants. Maybe she'll show a bit more emotion now that she's out of the spotlight. Plus, I don't think Frieza will be around in the middle of the day. I'll take Gohan along so she can meet him," Chichi said. She walked around Goku towards their bed. "Now come and help me  _warm_  these sheets."

* * *

Puella heard the doorbell ring as she was cleaning the kitchen. Music was coming from the parlor, so she figured Bulma could not have heard it. It was that or she was deliberately ignoring it. Her assistant was not due for another hour or so, so who could it be? Puella wiped her hands on her apron as she headed towards the door. She pulled the large door open and saw a somewhat familiar face.

"Hi! Is Bulma home?"

"May I ask who is calling on her?" Puella asked, looking over the visitor. She held a bundled up baby in her arms. All Puella could make out were his large eyes.

"Oh! I'm Chichi... Is that her playing?" Chichi practically pushed herself past Puella as she entered the room.

The name sounded familiar; Puella was sure she had heard it somewhere before.  _Perhaps one of Miss Bulma's friends from her school years_ , she reasoned. She shut the door and followed after Chichi.

Chichi followed the sound of Bulma's playing. She came to the wooden doors leading to the parlor and stood there listening. She smirked and opened the door quietly. As expected, Bulma was sitting at the piano. She was staring straight ahead out the window, but her fingers masterfully flew across the keys, never missing a note. Chichi moved silently towards a couch behind Bulma and sat down softly.

The pianist could sense the presence behind her and simply smiled. "Nice of you to visit, Chichi," she said without pausing.

"The pleasure is all mine, I assure you. What troubles you?" Chichi asked.

"Why would you think something troubles me?"

"Bulma, everyone knows you only play Beethoven when you're in a bad mood. This is your way of brooding. You and Vegeta have the strangest ways of expressing your feelings. He takes pictures of naked women and you play Beethoven sonatas." A series of bad notes startled Chichi. "Well, now I know something's wrong. You can play that song in your sleep."

Bulma shook her head and gathered herself. She turned on her stool and faced Chichi. "It's nothing. But, you said Vegeta takes pictures of naked girls?"

Chichi raised an eyebrow and sat Gohan beside her on the sofa. She started removing his little coat and hat. "Well, it isn't like those foul magazines. But, whenever he gets into one of his brooding moods, he goes out, finds some girl willing to make a few bucks, and he takes pictures of her. He said something about the female form being  _comforting_."

"Are you sure he wasn't just being a pervert?" Bulma turned around and began playing again. She moved ahead to a less dreary part of the sonata she was playing. The music seemed to please the little boy behind her as he started clapping and giggling.

"I think Gohan likes this song." Chichi sat back and listened as Bulma completed the sonata.

Bulma stood and walked over to the sofa. She sat down next to the baby. "So you're little Gohan. Your pictures do not do you justice," she said as she picked up the baby. Gohan gurgled and giggled as Bulma played with him.

Chichi watched with a smile. "Now that you're getting married, could we expect to see some little ones in the near future?"

"Babies? Don't make me laugh, Chi. Frieza hates children with the fire of a thousand suns. I'm pretty sure if there was a fast forward button on babies, he would not hesitate to push it until they were eighteen," Bulma replied.

"I see. But, do  _you_  want children, Bulma? This is something you both need to agree on before you get married. I mean, I was hesitant about having Gohan so soon, but Goku was all too eager. He was more excited than I was when I told him about my pregnancy."

Bulma watched as Gohan snuggled closer to her in her arms. "Well, I do want kids if only to play them lullabies on my piano. Besides, I think motherhood would do wonders for my music. I've always written the best songs when I'm happy..."

"That brings me to another point." Chichi took Gohan from Bulma and sat him on the sofa. She took Bulma's hands into her own. "Are you happy, Bulma?"

The question took Bulma by surprise. "Of... Of course I am, Chichi. Why wouldn't I be? I just got engaged. My records are selling well. My concert received great reviews in the paper... Things are great," she replied.

Chichi stared at Bulma for a moment. The other woman smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. In fact, Bulma's eyes remained very sad and dull. Instead of pushing her further, Chichi simply nodded.  _She'll talk when she's good and ready to. No point in pushing her further than she's willing to go right now_.

"I understand. So, when do you want to start shopping for dresses?"

"Dresses? Wedding dresses?" Bulma looked away from her friend. "I just don't have the time to..."

"Sure you do! Come on!" Chichi quickly bundled Gohan back up and pulled Bulma to her feet. "Let's go! We'll take my car."

* * *

Vegeta was ascending the stoop to his own brownstone when he saw Chichi exit from next door. She was talking loudly about dresses or something. The blue-haired woman followed after her, locking to door before descending the steps to Chichi's car. Vegeta had hoped to go unnoticed as he tried to open his front door, but Gohan saw him and the baby squealed in delight.

Chichi turned her head to see what Gohan was so happy about. "Good afternoon, Vegeta!" she called and she opened the door to her car. "I'm surprised to see you out and about today!"

Rolling his eyes, Vegeta kicked his front door to get it to budge. "I live here, harpy. What could possibly be so surprising about me being here?" He pushed against the door a few more times. It still would not open. "Fucking stupid door," he muttered.

"Excuse me."

Vegeta looked over his shoulder to see Bulma standing behind him. He had not even heard her come up behind him. "What is it, woman?"

Bulma ignored his terse tone and stepped past him while rolling her eyes. She took hold of the elaborate doorknob with her right hand and pulled the door forward. Then she pulled upward on the doorknob and kicked the bottom of the door. It opened. She stepped back and gestured towards the door. "My door had the same problem. They're really old doors and sometimes the wood swells."

"Hn," Vegeta murmured, looking at the sides of the doorway. The wood had definitely swollen slightly.

"Well, um, see you later." Bulma turned around and made a hasty exit towards Chichi's car.

Vegeta stood at his door as Chichi and Bulma drove off. Shaking his head, he went inside his house. As he sat his keys on a table and continued to the kitchen. His brownstone was more modern than Bulma's. He'd done a massive renovation before moving in. He walked up the stairs to the top floor of the brownstone. The walls had been knocked out and the entire floor was one single room. Most of Vegeta's artwork and supplies resided in this room. There was also a mattress in the farthest corner of the room.

The artist walked up to a covered 20x30 canvas. He picked it up and hauled it into one of the many easels in the room. He took the dark cover off of it, revealing a black and white watercolor. Vegeta rarely did watercolors, but they seemed to be quite popular with his buyers. While they were popular, they did not sell for as much as his oil paintings. He stood back and observed the finished painting. He had half a mind to scrap it altogether. Just as he was reaching to take it off the easel, his cell started to vibrate in his pocket. Vegeta picked it up and put it to his ear.

" _I really wish you'd at least answer when you pick up_ ," the voice came through.

"Why? You already know I've picked up," Vegeta said in return.

There was a sigh on the other end. " _Whatever, Vegeta. Do you have anything for me? Some dealers are making offers_."

Vegeta briefly contemplated lying about the watercolor. He knew his agent would never get off his back about it, though. "I've got a new watercolor that's finished."

" _That's great! I'll send someone for it. How's the new place?_ "

"Spacious." Vegeta turned away from the watercolor. "What do you really want, cue ball?"

" _Is it really so hard to say my name? I've been your agent for years and you never call me by my name. I'm beginning to believe that you don't even remember what it is_."

"I know what your name is, cue ball. I just don't care to call you by it. Now what is it that you really called for? You never call to ask if I'm done with a new painting. You just come and get them. So what is it?"

There was a long silence on the other end. " _Well, uh, I might have a job for you. It's very, very unorthodox though. Unorthodox for you, at least._ "

Vegeta snorted. "Just cut to the chase, cue ball."

" _A production company is looking for someone to design stage sets. They want full backdrops and stuff like that. They're putting on some sort of show; a ballet, I think. I told them that I might have someone who would be interested in it so I'd give them a call within a few days. What do you think?_ "

"I'm not an interior designer, cue ball."

 _"But, you paint all the walls in your own homes. You couldn't paint a few backdrops? It's an even better way to get your art out there. Imagine if this show went on the road! It could be great!_ " His agent sounded extremely excited. When Vegeta said nothing, he sighed again. " _They're willing to pay an awful lot for this._ "

Vegeta exhaled loudly. "I want full creative control once I know what the ballet is about. I don't want censorship or anything," he said.

" _Absolutely! I know you wouldn't have it any other way. But, there's one thing. You may not be censored, but your paintings must fit a certain concept. Everything in this show is being designed from the ground up. The dancers, wardrobe, choreography... All of it must fit one thing._ "

"What's that?"

" _The music._ "

* * *

Bulma and Chichi watched as Juu sat down with them at the coffee shop they stopped at. Gohan was sleeping in his stroller. Bulma's assistant had called to meet up with Bulma since she was not at home. Finding out that they were on a lunch break, Juu said she would meet them there.

"You guys haven't been waiting long, have you?" Juu asked. A waiter came up to her. "Just a cup of coffee."

Chichi took in Juu's appearance. She wore a plaid jumper with a gray shirt underneath it. Black tights and boots accompanied the outfit. "You have no coat on. It's too cold to be walking around like that."

"I'll be fine. I've worn less in colder weather before. Bulma, I came across a new gig for you. It's totally different than anything you've ever done before." The waiter sat Juu's coffee down. She immediately began filling it with cream and sugar. "It's for a ballet."

Bulma nearly choked on the salad she was eating. "A  _ballet_? Juu, I can't compose music for a ballet!"

"Sure you can. The producers asked for you especially. They've offered this job to no one else. It's being kept in secret except to those involved. Everything is being based off of the  _music_. You have almost complete control of how this show will play out." Juu took a sip of her coffee. "It's a perfect chance for your music to reach a broader audience."

The pianist shook her head. "Either way it goes, it takes months to compose an entire ballet, Juu. It's like composing a symphony. Am I composing for an orchestra or am I composing just for the piano? These are all very important questions that I bet you didn't ask."

Juu smirked. "Of course I asked. I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't get every detail down. They want the music to be for a solo piano. You won't have to play it, though. The music to this production must come first. The choreography and costumes will all fit the music. Even the settings will fit the music. You pretty much have complete control of how this production will look, feel, and sound."

"That's a lot of pressure to put on the composer," Chichi said. "How soon does something like this have to be done?"

"You'll be working with the set designer simultaneously as the music comes together. They hope to open the show by late spring. So about six or seven months. What do you think?"

Bulma finished her salad and thought for a moment. She was capable of churning out new music relatively fast. But something like this could not be just thrown together.  _I'm actually a little excited about this_.

"I'll do it."

"Great. I'll give them a call. By the way, what have you guys been up to all day?" Juu asked.

Chichi smiled and looked at Bulma. "We went to a few wedding boutiques. Bulma did not try anything on, though," she answered. She noticed the way Juu's face darkened. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Juu just isn't really a fan of Frieza. She only puts up with him because of me," Bulma said.

"Bulma is severely understating it." Juu took her eyes off of Bulma and looked at Chichi. "I've been saying since I started working for her that Frieza is nothing but bad news. Look at her! She can have any man she wants and she chooses a womanizing, pigheaded, alcoholic asshole. It astounds me," Juu said. She started chugging her coffee again.

Chichi glanced back at Bulma, who was playing with the ice in her lemonade. "I see."

Wanting desperately to change the subject, Bulma finished off her lemonade and smiled at Juu. "Do you know who else will be working on the ballet?"

Juu narrowed her eyes at Bulma. She would play along for now. "No. This project is being kept secret. I don't know for what reason, though. I'm sure when you meet with the producers that they'll want you to sign some document to keep you from talking. But this production really depends on the music you write."

"Are you trying to say something, Juu?"

"Nope. Just try not to make it dreary and sad."

* * *

Vegeta was sitting out on his stoop with a sketchpad and a pencil. He kept looking up every now and then as his hand flew across the pad. He was shading when he heard a car pull up in front of the brownstone next to his. He glanced up. Bulma was waving goodbye to Chichi and Gohan. Chichi pulled off giving him a wave. Vegeta nodded and looked back down at his pad.

"Hi, Vegeta!" Bulma said from her own stoop. She had just noticed his hair. Before she put her key in the door, she heard Vegeta grunt his greeting. She was almost surprised he responded. She'd fully been expecting him to completely ignore her. Bulma peered over the edge of her stoop. "Why are you sitting out here?"

The artist rolled his eyes. "I'm minding my business, woman," he retorted rudely. He could practically feel Bulma burning holes in the side of his head. He mentally smirked, knowing he'd irritated her. She was so easily bothered. What he did not count on was hearing her footsteps and seeing her shadow appear on his stoop. Before he could barely look up at her, she'd snatched the sketchpad from him. "Woman, what the hell do you think..."

Bulma held up a hand that silenced Vegeta. She was looking at his sketch. Then she glanced up around them before examining the sketch again. "Wow. It almost looks like a picture. You're really good at this." Bulma began flipping through the pages. Vegeta lunged at her, trying to get his sketchpad back. Bulma skillfully dodged his attempts. "These are very nice, Vegeta. I'm impressed."

Vegeta finally managed to get the pad away from Bulma. She was smiling at him. He raised an eyebrow. The way the setting sun shone in her eyes almost made it seem as if they were twinkling. Her smile was real and it was only the second time Vegeta had seen her not force one on her face. "Meddling woman. You barely know me and you're already touching my possessions."

"Well, next time you shouldn't be so rude. I'm naturally a very curious person and I always find out what I want to know," she said while crossing her arms over her chest. "Besides, it's too cold out here for you to just be sitting in barely any clothes at all. Why don't you have a coat on?" She was referring to Vegeta simply wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a white tank where she was almost completely bundled up.

"A coat would hinder my mobility as I draw. So would gloves." Vegeta sat back down. He watched as Bulma took a seat beside him. Ignoring her proximity, Vegeta found the page he'd been sketching on.

The pianist watched him as he continued his drawing. She noticed how focused he was and how his eyes would dart up every now and then to look at the scene. He almost reminded her of her own focus when she was playing or composing. Bulma felt she should remain quiet and just watched him. She found the silence comforting.

After about 15 minutes, Vegeta stopped drawing and sat back. Bulma looked over at him. He was looking straight ahead, but he was holding the sketchpad out just enough so she could see it. Smiling, she looked down at the finished product. "You even shaded it. The position of the light has been changing. How did you..."

"Eidetic memory," Vegeta said, cutting her off.

Bulma nodded. "But if you have a photographic memory, why are you sitting out here in the cold? You could've done this from inside."

Vegeta shrugged. "I like the outdoors. Sitting indoors becomes suffocating after a while."

His response was somewhat expected to Bulma. She said nothing else and looked over the sketch again. "It really is amazing. It's like looking at a black and white photo of the street. So detailed, too."

The artist took the page in his hand and tore it from the sketchpad. He held it out to Bulma. "Take it."

"Vegeta, I couldn't..."

"Take the drawing, woman," he said. Bulma nodded and took the page from him. Vegeta got to his feet and turned to go back inside. "Now get off my stoop." He opened the door to his brownstone.

"Vegeta," Bulma called as she got up herself. He faced her again. "Thanks." She smiled at him again. Then she turned and returned to her own stoop. The gesture took Vegeta by surprise again.

 _She smiled_.


	3. In Color

 

Vegeta looked up and out his parlor window as the blue-haired woman stepped outside on her stoop. She discreetly sneaked a peek in his general direction as she pulled gloves on her tiny hands. She went gracefully down the steps and called for a taxicab. It was mere seconds before one pulled over. Once her car was gone, Vegeta glanced down at his sketchpad. He made a few more adjustments to the drawing before he tore it out of the sketchpad. Just as he was rolling it up, his phone began to vibrate from his kitchen. He made it to the room and picked it up from the counter.

" _Again with the silence! Anyway, the producers are having a meeting with the composer now. They want you to be there_."

"Why?" Vegeta left the kitchen to head upstairs to his studio. "For what purpose do I need to meet a composer?"

" _You didn't listen to a word I said a few days ago, did you? I said you'll be working closely with the composer. You can't work if you don't know what your art is supposed to be like_."

The artist grunted as he came across what he'd been looking for: mailing tubes. He picked up a small one and popped it open. Seeing there was nothing inside, he put the rolled-up sketch inside and closed it. "Where is the damn meeting being held?"

" _At the Trellis. There's a restaurant inside that they invited the composer to. The meeting starts in thirty minutes. Think you can make it there in time_?"

"Whatever." Vegeta hung up the phone. He looked down at his attire. Deciding that his t-shirt and jeans were good enough, he grabbed his coat and headed out. Before he left, he stopped and placed the tube in the mailbox for next door.

* * *

Bulma's taxicab pulled up next to the Trellis. She paid the driver and got out, staring up at the enormous hotel. She looked behind her. Frieza worked in the building across the street for a brokerage firm. Raising the sleeve on her left hand, Bulma glanced at her watch.  _I have ten minutes to spare. I suppose I could stop in to say hello_ , she thought. She looked both ways and then scurried across the street.

Her fiancé worked on the 30th floor of the skyscraper, so she took the elevator. Luckily, everyone already was accustomed to seeing her so there was no mass hysteria that a celebrity was in their midst. The elevator door opened and Bulma stepped out. The office was down the hall to her right. When she opened the large door, she was greeted with a burst of heat.

"Why is it so hot in here?" Bulma asked aloud.

The blonde receptionist looked up at her and smiled. "Miss Briefs! What a surprise to see you! Sorry about the heat. We're having a bit of trouble with the heating system on this floor. But, you know I'd rather be hot than cold."

Bulma decided the receptionist was far too perky despite the heat. "Well, I'm only stopping by for a moment. Is Frieza available?" she asked.

"Um," the receptionist looked down at her computer, "it doesn't look like Mr. Cold has any appointments until three. You can go on back to see him."

The pianist nodded and walked around the desk towards the other offices. She came to Frieza's and knocked on the door. There was a small grunt behind it. Sighing, she pushed the door open. Frieza was sitting across the room at his desk. His tie was loosened and the first 2 buttons on his dress shirt were undone. He appeared to be doing something on his computer. He took one glance at Bulma and went back to his work.

"So, what are you doing here?" Frieza asked.

Bulma frowned at his tone. "I came to say hi. I was going to the Trellis to meet with some producers and I had a few minutes to spare. Is it so bad for me to come see my fiancé?" she asked, crossing her arms.

Frieza pressed a few keys on the keyboard and then gave Bulma his full attention. "I started that conversation wrong." He got to his feet and walked around his desk. Bulma watched him approach her warily. He grabbed her by the arms and pulled her into a kiss. Then he looked down at her. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. How are you surviving in this heat? I've been in here five minutes and I'm about to pass out," she replied.

"Once you get used to it, it isn't so bad. You said you were going to be at the Trellis?"

"Yes. I have to get going. I only wanted to say hi."

Frieza nodded. He noticed Bulma had gloves on. He took her left hand and pulled the glove off. He then looked at her. Her eyes were wide as she stared at her hand. "Where's your ring?"

Bulma cursed mentally. "I took it off when I showered. I must've forgotten to put it back on," she said quickly.

"Why would you take it off in the first place?"

"Anything could slip off my finger with enough soap and water, Frieza. The ring already isn't that snug on my finger. Would you rather it goes down the drain? Plus, I never wear jewelry when I play. You know that." Bulma checked her watch again. "Shit! I really have to go. I'll see you at dinner tonight." She turned away from him and headed for the door. Bulma could tell he had more to say and the last thing she wanted was to walk into a meeting looking disheveled. She made her exit as quick as possible.

* * *

Vegeta sauntered towards the restaurant in the Trellis. It was some sort of fancy place that probably served meals he would consider snacks. There was no one standing at the host station so Vegeta walked inside. The place was nearly deserted except for a round table in the far corner. Vegeta recognized his agent and made his way in his direction.

"Here's Vegeta," his agent, Krillyn Monk, said. He gestured to the seat beside him and Vegeta sat down. "Vegeta, this is Juuna Gero. He's one of the producers for Orange Star Productions, the production company that's backing this show. He'll be the main person we deal with."

Juuna Gero looked up at Vegeta with narrow blue eyes. "Nice to finally meet the great Vegeta Ouji. I'm a frequent buyer of your work. Your oil paintings are some of the best I've seen in recent years. Care to order a drink?" A waiter stepped up beside Vegeta.

"Whiskey," Vegeta said plainly. The waiter scurried off and Vegeta took the time to look around the table. He immediately recognized the blonde woman sitting two seats from him. She smirked and waved. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

Juu's smirk grew into a wry grin. "Isn't it obvious? I represent the composer." She nodded to something behind him.

Bulma rushed up to the table. "I am so sorry I'm late. I actually got here about fifteen minutes ago but I figured I had a little time to visit Frieza. That took longer than I thought it would. I hope I'm not... Hello, Vegeta." She stopped talking as she noticed him. How had she missed his hair? He grunted his greeting and looked away from her.

"So it seems that you all know one another. That's great. We can skip the pleasantries and get right down to business."

Bulma eyed Juuna. "Juu, you failed to mention that Orange Star would be behind this."

"I love you too, Bulma." Juuna smiled at her. "Now, I understand that you two are already acquainted."

"Yes. Mutual friends introduced us. That and he's my new neighbor," Bulma said as she situated herself in her seat. Before Juu's twin brother could ask any more questions, she sat forward in her seat. "Is there any particular feeling you want this ballet to have?"

Juuna shook his head. "I've already said that complete control has been given to you, Bulma. If you want to make it about death and destruction, I wouldn't care as long as it's good," he replied.

The pianist nodded and looked over at Vegeta. He was balancing a glass of whiskey between his fingers while looking at it. She cleared her throat softly and sat up straight. "I'm sure I could come up with a concept in the next few days and go from there. Do you need to hear the actual music in order to do your work, Mr. Ouji?" she inquired.

Vegeta turned his glare to Bulma. She seemed to realize her mistake of calling him  _Mr. Ouji_  and cleared her throat once again. "You could just tell me the emotions you're going for; the story you want to tell. Samples of your music would be preferable, though."

"I see." Bulma nodded.

"Well then it's settled. I'm sure you two will make a great team." Juuna smiled and got to his feet. Everyone else followed except Vegeta. The artist finished his drink before standing. Juuna surprised him by shaking his hand before he had a chance to react. "If there are any questions, feel free to contact my office. You two play nice." He winked at Bulma and she rolled her eyes.

Once he was gone, Juu cleared her throat and tapped Bulma on her shoulder. "Should I book the studio for you to work in?"

Bulma looked over at Vegeta, who was now listening to his own agent talk; or at least his agent was talking to him. Then she shook her head. "No. I can work from home this time. Besides, Vegeta  _does_  live next door," she replied.

"Need a ride?" Juu gathered her things and put her coat on. Bulma shook her head as she did the same. "Well, you know where to find me." She walked around Bulma. She caught Vegeta's agent and winked before leaving the restaurant.

Suddenly feeling drained, Bulma went over to restaurant's bar and took a seat. She thought about ordering wine but immediately changed her mind. Instead she ordered a gin and a pulled the bowl of pretzels to her. She barely moved when she noticed someone hovering over her. Smirking, she already knew who it was.

"I never took you for a hard liquor drinker." Vegeta slid onto the stool next to hers.

"You only just met me, Vegeta. You can't possibly know everything about me already. To tell you the truth, I hate champagne and wine." Bulma looked at him as she ate a pretzel. "Apart from your sketch, I've never actually seen any of your artwork."

Vegeta pointed to a painting on the far end of the restaurant. Bulma nodded and rose from her seat. She walked to the other end of the restaurant, holding her glass of vodka. She stood in front of the large painting. It was an oil painting of a landscape; a very detailed landscape.

"It looks so real. How do you get them to look so realistic?" she whispered.

"How do you get your music to convey what you're feeling?" he asked in return.

Bulma turned and watched him approach her. "My music is not related to my life in any way. I really just write off the top of my head," she replied.

Vegeta grunted and stepped around her. He looked up at his painting with a critical eye. "You're not wearing your ring," he said suddenly. He turned around and saw Bulma looking at her left hand.

"You sound just like Frieza. I took it off before I showered and I just forgot to put it back on. I'm not used to wearing jewelry on my hands. I play the damn piano. Rings and bracelets just get in the way. If it means anything I know exactly where I left it," she said with a smile. The artist squinted at her for a moment before smirking. Feeling a little wary, Bulma cleared her throat. "So, um, why don't you come over tomorrow and we can get started? I have a piano in my house already so there's no need for us to really go anywhere else." She watched him nod and grunt his response.

 _Not a big talker, is he? No matter. I'm sure I'll get him to talk more often while we're working together_ , Bulma thought as she finished her drink. She looked at the empty glass.  _I should get another one of these_...

* * *

Frieza had been home for hours when he heard noise outside of the brownstone. He sat his own drink down and went to the door. Pulling the heavy door open, he heard Bulma giggling uncontrollably. Crossing his arms, Frieza leaned against the door pane and watched Vegeta help the giggling Bulma out of the taxicab. He could tell she was drunk when she snorted in her laugh.

The pianist covered her mouth when she heard the snort. "Was that me?" she asked loudly. Vegeta sighed and pulled Bulma towards the stoop to her brownstone. She started laughing again but immediately stopped when she saw Frieza staring down at her.

Vegeta felt Bulma stiffen when Frieza came into view. Her laughter was quickly stifled. Vegeta looked at her and then back to Frieza. "There was liquor at the meeting." Vegeta held Bulma's hand up towards Frieza. The other man nodded and reached out for Bulma. He pulled her forward and Bulma stumbled up the steps.

Bulma regained her bearings as Frieza held onto her ad followed him up the stoop. "Thanks for the drinks, Vegeta," she said with a faint smile. She saw Vegeta frown deeper than usual at her smile. She immediately turned away from him and headed inside.

He stood there as Frieza held the door open for Bulma. Once she disappeared inside, Frieza turned and glared at Vegeta. The two simply stared at one another; Vegeta's expression was passive while Frieza's was malevolent. Vegeta smirked as the other man was the first to look away by shutting the door. Shaking his head, Vegeta headed into his own home.

Bulma entered her bedroom and walked into her boudoir dressing. She stepped out of her shoes and hung up her coat. Then she sat at her vanity. She began working on removing her jewelry and makeup and noticed a white tube sitting on the vanity, partially concealed by the mirror. Removing a pin from her hair, Bulma reached for the tube with her free hand.  _This was definitely not here when I left earlier_ , she thought as she shook her hair out.

There were no markings of any sort on it. Bulma shook it and heard something moving around. She popped the lid off and pulled out the piece of paper. Unrolling it, she gasped at what she saw.

It was a drawing of her. Bulma could see that it was her when she had been facing Vegeta on his stoop. She was smiling.  _He really does have a photographic memory_ , she thought with a small chuckle. She rolled the drawing back up and slipped it back in the tube. The bedroom door opened behind her and she heard Frieza enter. Taking a deep breath, Bulma stood and began to remove her dress.

Frieza watched as Bulma undressed in her closet. She seemed much more demure than she had outside. "How did your meeting go?" he asked suddenly.

"It went great," Bulma answered from the closet. She threw on a camisole and sweatpants. The tube was safely placed in a cabinet at the back of the dressing room. "This new job I have is going to be great. It's unlike anything I've ever done." Bulma walked over to her vanity and sat back down.

"You met him there?"

Bulma brushed her hair back into a ponytail. "Vegeta? Oh he's also working on this new project. It's supposed to be a secret, but I guess I can tell you what it is." She finished her hair and faced Frieza. "It's a ballet. I'm composing the music and Vegeta is designing the sets. Everything is based around my music. It will be like watching the music instead of simply listening to it. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

Frieza nodded but remained silent. He noticed Bulma's hands. "Where is your ring?" He watched her turn in her seat and search the vanity. She found it, slipped it on her ring finger, and stood up. She walked over to Frieza and flashed it in front of his face proudly. "Very nice."

"I told you I knew where it was," Bulma said. She started to step around him when he took hold of her arm. He pulled her back in front of him. Bulma tried to shake him off. "Let me go. You're hurting me." She gasped when Frieza pulled her into his chest. He was still squeezing her arm tightly.

He smirked when he saw the worry in Bulma's eyes. Frieza wrapped his free arm around Bulma and pulled her into a hug. He moved a few stray strands of hair from her ear and leaned down. "Don't take it off ever again," he whispered.

Frozen in place by his tone, Bulma nodded slowly as Frieza stepped away from her. He left the room, shutting the door in the process. Bulma sighed and threw herself down on her bed.  _Being threatened is much better than being hit_ , she thought darkly.

* * *

Alone in the house the next day, Bulma sat at her piano. She balanced an unlit cigarette between her lips and sighed as she stared out the window. A pad and pencil sat at the top of the white piano. Bulma placed her hands on the keys and absentmindedly tapped a few notes. They were in no particular order. Bulma was just getting a feel for them. Finally, she tapped a few that sounded sweet to her ears. Going by the feel of the music, Bulma played on for a few more minutes.

Puella opened the door to the parlor soundlessly. Bulma did not seem to notice as she played. Stepping to the side, Puella beckoned the new guest to enter. Vegeta stepped into the room and Puella closed the door behind him.

Vegeta stood in front of the door, gazing around the pristine white room. He admired Bulma from behind for a moment. She was in a simple gray tank top and sweatpants. Her hair was tied up in a very sloppy bun; it was close to falling out. He tried not to notice the giant fuzzy pink slippers near her feet. As she played, Vegeta could see her engagement ring was missing once again. He spotted it sitting on the top of the piano, though. Vegeta finally began to approach her silently, listening to her playing.

 _Such morose music. One would think she'd try to write something festive for this frivolous production_ , he thought as he came up right behind her. He stood over her and she still did not sense his presence. Vegeta realized her eyes were closed. He leaned down to her ear.

"I see black and gray backdrops. Perhaps a few splashes of white here and there. The dancers should wear red to stand out against the set. It should all give an atmosphere of hopelessness and sadness," he whispered. He saw her shiver but she did not stop playing.

"Is that what you see when you hear me play?" she asked quietly.

"Only when you play like this." Vegeta stood up straight and walked around the piano to look her in the face. He found the unlit cigarette interesting. However, Bulma's glassy eyes were what caught him by surprise. Gone was the life he'd managed to get out of her the day before in the hotel bar. She looked like she did when he first met her. "How do you feel, woman?" he asked.

She stared blankly at him for a moment. "You were right." Bulma took the cigarette from her mouth and sat it on top of the piano. "Every time I've started to play, it's come out sounding like some sort of requiem. I can't play anything  _happy_. That isn't how I..." She trailed off and sighed.

Raising an eyebrow, Vegeta turned away from her and began walking around the room. He noticed the high windows, long white drapes, and white furniture. He was almost wary of touching anything lest he get it dirty. "You have no festive experiences to draw upon? Your first concert? How you felt when you started your career? Meeting your partner? Having him propose to you?" He looked back at her. Bulma was shaking her head.

"No. I've been playing since my fingers were big enough to cover the keys. I love playing, but I now I've come to view it more as a sanctuary of sorts. It helps calm me."

"The music doesn't have to be  _happy_ , woman." Vegeta sat in an armchair to Bulma's left. "Blue," he said.

Bulma frowned. "Blue?"

"Play what you think the color blue would  _sound_  like." Vegeta leaned back in the armchair and folded his arms across his chest.

The pianist looked away from him and down at the ivory keys.  _The color blue... How can a color have a sound_? Bulma mused. She pictured the different shades of blue in her mind. She even thought about her own hair. Before she knew it, she was playing again. She flinched when she heard her ring knock against the keys. Pausing, she pulled the ring from her finger and sat it on the top of the piano.

Vegeta listened to the music. It was no longer sad. However, he could not rightly place what the music was conveying.  _At least there's some progress_ , he thought as Bulma continued to play. He watched her stop and frown down at the keys. She replayed a few of the previous notes. Then she reached for her pen and pad and began scribbling. Before long, she was playing bits and pieces of a new song.

The artist watched with veiled interest as the pianist composed a song with how she felt about the color  _blue_. Bulma was in her element. Several expressions flitted across her face. When she played something she liked, a hint of a smile would form. If she hit a sour note, she appeared absolutely furious. She'd been composing for at least 30 minutes when she finally began to play the song from the beginning.

Bulma followed the notes on her small pad. She played the song relatively slowly, having not decided what she wanted the tempo to be. The music sounded as if should be powerful and commanding. It should sound  _serious_. She mentally transposed the notes and replayed the same interval in a different key. She shook her head and did it again, this time going for a richer sound. She her eyes lit up when she found the key she liked. She replayed the entire piece until where she left off and held the final key down.

"That's it?"

She'd almost forgotten Vegeta was there. He was practically reclining in the armchair by now. "Of course not. I wanted to write a few notes and find the right key before I continue. I would hate to compose an entire song in a terrible key. What did you think about it so far?" Bulma was genuinely interested in his answer.

Vegeta raised an eyebrow. "Play it again in the new key." Bulma nodded and did as she was told. When she finished, she glanced back up at Vegeta expectantly. His eyes were closed and he looked as though he was in deep thought. Before Bulma could ask him again, his eyes opened. "It sounded powerful but had a hint of softness to it; almost like a contradiction."

"Not happy?"

"It didn't need to be happy." Vegeta rose from his seat and moved over to the piano. "It was the feeling the color itself gave you." He sat down beside her on the bench. Bulma watched him warily. He nodded towards the keys again. Bulma started the song over, this time playing at a rather slow tempo. Vegeta closed his eyes and listened.

Bulma peeked over at him. He was frowning in thought. She had a sneaking suspicion that she may have looked the same way while she had been composing the new piece. She leaned over to Vegeta's ear. "What do you see?" she whispered.

Vegeta's eyes opened slowly as the music died down. "Every aspect of the color. I'm positive I could capture the music in various shades of blue."

"That's what I'll do." Bulma turned the page on her pad. She began writing down colors. "I'll make interpretations of certain colors; red, orange, yellow, green, purple, blue, black, and white. Eight colors and eight songs. That shouldn't be too hard. All I have to do is figure out what each color means to me."

She began playing again. This time she started composing more of the music. Again, Vegeta watched her work. She played and replayed notes until she found ones that were to her liking. It was only when Bulma had to reach further down the keys did she remember that Vegeta was sitting next to her. She paused and looked at his impassive face.

 _He's ridiculously handsome_ , she thought randomly.

"Why are you looking at me like that, woman?" Vegeta asked.

Bulma sat up straight. "Would you like to learn how to play?" She nearly laughed at the bewildered look on Vegeta's face. He quickly masked his confusion, though. "Come on. It'll be easy. I'll teach you something." She began tapping a few keys.

Vegeta could only assume that she was trying to figure out what to teach him.  _I never did agree to it_ , he thought with a deepened frown. She began playing a rather familiar song. Vegeta watched her fingers.

"That's it! I'll teach you  _Für Elise_! Now hold your hands like..." Bulma trailed off. Vegeta began playing the song just as she had. Of course, he played it in a different key but it was nearly perfect. "You did all that from memory?" she asked.

"It wasn't that hard."

Bulma playfully slapped him on the shoulder. "If it is so easy, let's see you do this." She flexed her fingers and began playing a very intricate piece. Vegeta watched her hands, but he had to admit that what she was doing was amazing. When she stopped, Bulma looked at him expectantly. Vegeta glanced down at the keys before him. Then he began to play. It was significantly slower than how Bulma had been playing, but he followed the notes almost perfectly for a while. "I'll admit you have some skill. However, you can't just change the tempo of the music."

"Says who?"

"Says... the composers." Bulma faced the piano again. "Let's try some other songs."

* * *

Frieza walked in the house and dropped his briefcase by the door. Puella greeted him and helped him out of his coat. "Where is Bulma?" he asked.

"Where you'll always find her, sir," the older woman answered. She gathered up Frieza's briefcase and walked off towards the office.

Frieza figured Puella meant the parlor. He removed his leather gloves as he strutted down the hall. He could hear the sounds of the piano coming as he grew closer to the parlor. As usual, the door was closed. Before he opened it, he heard Bulma laugh when the music stopped. She was talking to someone. Raising an eyebrow, Frieza opened the door.

Bulma and Vegeta were still at the piano. Half-filled glasses of red wine were sitting on top of the piano. She was showing Vegeta the proper way to play while he was watching her intently. He seemed really engrossed in her teachings.

"All in all, I think you're pretty awesome at this. I've never had anyone to teach before," Bulma was saying as she positioned Vegeta's hands over the keys. "Now play it how I just showed you."

Before Vegeta could start playing, Frieza cleared his throat. Bulma whirled around on the bench so fast that she almost fell off. Vegeta caught her around her waist and pulled her back up. He turned his narrow gaze to Frieza. Frieza was glaring at him as well. Bulma seemed oblivious to the men's stare down. She stood up and walked over to Frieza.

"I didn't hear you come in. Did you just get here?" She rose up on her toes and kissed his cheek. When she drew back, she could see Frieza still glaring at Vegeta. She stepped directly in his line of sight, forcing him to acknowledge her. "I was just working with Vegeta on that new project I told you about. We decided on a theme and everything. We were just taking a break now. Vegeta was learning to play the piano."

Frieza nodded slowly. "Puella made dinner. Have you eaten?"

"Um, no. We've been in here working for hours. I guess she didn't want to disturb us. She did bring us some wine, though." Bulma turned and looked at Vegeta. "Care to join us for dinner?"

Vegeta knew when he was not wanted. Though Bulma seemed to really want him to stay by the way her face grew a bit serious, Vegeta was not looking for a confrontation with Frieza.  _At least not at this moment_ , he thought as he stood.

"I need to go and start on my own work," he declined. He turned and picked up his wine glass. He swallowed what was left and sat the glass back down next to Bulma's half-filled one.

Bulma nodded. "Of course. Let me show you..."

"I'll do it," Frieza interrupted. "You go get ready for dinner," he said. He kissed Bulma's forehead.

"Ok. Good night, Vegeta." Bulma gave him a smile and left the room.

The two men stared at one another for a few more moments. Frieza smirked and turned on his heel. Vegeta followed a few steps after him. When he arrived at the door, Puella had his coat ready. The housekeeper handed it to him and he held it on his arm. After all, he was just going next door. Frieza pulled the door open and a gust of cold air hit Vegeta. The artist glared at the smirking Frieza.

"Have a good night, Mr. Ouji."

"I intend to." Vegeta stepped through the threshold and did not look back as he descended the steps. He heard the door slam behind him.

* * *

Bulma finished off her own wine. Puella was setting the table quietly behind her. "You can go, Puella. I'll finish this."

Puella stopped as she sat a plate down. "Are you sure?" she asked. Bulma nodded while pouring another glass of wine. "If you insist. Good night, Miss Bulma."

"Good night, Puella." Bulma jumped slightly when she heard the front door slam. Sighing, she headed to the kitchen and fixed Frieza his own plate of food. When she returned to the dining room, Frieza was already waiting in his seat. Bulma walked up beside him and gave him a warm smile as she set his food down.

Frieza was already sipping the wine Puella had left on the table. As Bulma sat his plate in front of him, his eyes wandered down her arm to her hands. He stared at her bare hand for a moment while she situated his plate. She was speaking, but Frieza was not paying any attention. When she started to turn away, the wine glass in Frieza's hand broke.

The pianist watched in horror as the red wine ran down Frieza's arm, staining his white dress shirt. She reached for a napkin and immediately started to clean his arm. "Frieza, what is wrong with you? You've ruined this shirt and now you may have..." Bulma gasped as Frieza stood abruptly. She stumbled back a little but Frieza grabbed her by the neck and pulled her to him. "Frieza..."

He shook his hand free of Bulma's grip and held her left hand up. "Where is it?" he asked, his voice eerily calm.

"Where is what?" Bulma asked in a raspy voice. No sooner had the words left her mouth than had Frieza slapped her. She knocked against the table. Bulma grasped the chair next to her in order to stay on her feet. Before she could regain her bearings, Frieza took her by the hair and pulled her to him. He held up her left hand again, squeezing it painfully. "It... hurts..." she whispered.

"Where is it?" Frieza repeated.

Bulma opened her eyes and looked at her hand. Her engagement ring was missing. What had she done with it? She'd had it on earlier. She definitely remembered to put it on after her shower in the morning. Did it slip off somewhere? "It must've come off somewhere. I haven't left the house so it should be here," she said quickly. "Let me look for it."

Frieza backhanded her again and this time she went down. He watched her smack her head against the wooden floor and heard her moan in pain. The empty space on her ring finger caught his eye again as Bulma put her hand on the floor to push herself up. "Where have you spent the day? In your special room?" he asked.

"What are you talking about? It's probably just in...  _AH_!" Bulma yelped as Frieza grabbed her by the sloppy bun on her head. He started to walk around her, never letting go. Bulma fought to get out of his grasp but his hold was firm. He ended up dragging her backwards across the floor. "Frieza, let me go!"

"Don't tell me what to do, wench." He pulled especially hard and Bulma yelped again. He dragged all the way to the parlor where Bulma had spent the day. He walked to the center of the room and released Bulma.

Her head hurt. Bulma blinked the tears from her eyes and gazed around the room that Frieza had dragged her to. Earlier, it had held a completely different atmosphere. Now that Frieza stood in it with her, she felt weak. Her right hand went up to her head and rubbed her scalp. It was then that the memory of the ring came back. She slowly made it to her feet. Glancing at the piano, she saw the ring sitting next to her pen and pad atop the piano. She instantly reached for it and put it on. She held her hand out for Frieza to see. His expression did not change. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer.

"Why did you take it off?"

"I can't play with it on. I've told you that I don't wear jewelry while I play." Bulma felt the sting of the slap before she saw it coming. She stumbled backwards into the piano bench. She sat down on it and fell against the piano's keys. The sound bounced off the walls of the minimally furnished room. Bulma blinked a few times. She tasted blood and was positive she'd bitten down on the inside of her cheek by accident. She tried to recover back to her feet but Frieza pulled her to her feet once again.

"This piano of yours..." With his free hand, he swiped the top of the piano clean. Her pen and pad went flying to the floor. He pushed Bulma back against the keys. Again, the harsh sound of the keys rang throughout the room. "You taught him how to play, huh? Why don't you teach me, too?" Frieza leaned down to Bulma's face. He smeared the blood on her face with his thumb.

Bulma bit her already swollen lip. "I can teach you. You have to let me go, though," she said quietly. She closed her eyes when Frieza moved away from her face to her neck. He kissed her neck softly. Bulma exhaled slowly, wondering how one man could be so cruel one minute and the very next as gentle as a kitten. It did not make any logical sense. "Do you want me to teach you?"

Frieza looked back up into her glassy eyes. He smirked when he saw how terrified she looked. Blood was still seeping from the cut on her lip. He kissed her forcefully, earning a grunt of pain from her. He could feel her trying to push him away. Grabbing her by the hair again, Frieza jerked her head back, exposing her neck to him. "I don't want you to teach me how to play the piano. Perhaps we can do other things on the piano."

"The dinner will get cold, Frieza. We can always do it later tonight. I promise," Bulma said softly. She closed her eyes and listened for Frieza's response. Instead of saying anything, he simply released her. Bulma sat up and watched his retreating form.

"I'll hold you to that." Frieza disappeared through the door.

Now that she was alone, Bulma sank down to the floor. She touched her face, feeling the bruises forming. Sighing, she glanced up at the piano. A few of the keys were chipped and broken. Bulma closed her eyes and a few tears escaped. She turned away from the keys and walked out of the room.

* * *

Vegeta opened his refrigerator. It was relatively barren; milk, juice, a few brews, bread, sliced ham, and cheese were all that adorned the shelves. Vegeta eyed the one box of leftover takeout. He reached down and opened the carton.  _Beef lo mein. Better than a sandwich_ , he thought as he shut the refrigerator door. He dumped the contents of the carton into a bowl and placed it in the microwave. A buzzing in Vegeta's pocket pulled his attention away from the microwave. He took out his phone and answered it.

" _You really should say something. Anyway, how was your first day working with Miss Briefs_?" Krillyn asked.

The microwave beeped and Vegeta swung open the door. "Absolutely scintillating," he said dryly. He stirred the food and sat it back inside the microwave.

" _Are you eating takeout again, Vegeta? That stuff isn't good for you_ ," his agent warned.

"I haven't gotten sick yet, so I'm not inclined to believe you. Besides, I don't have any mayonnaise so a sandwich was out of the question." Vegeta removed the bowl once again. This time he picked up a fork and began eating. "I should've taken the woman up on her offer for dinner."

Krillyn coughed on his end. " _She invited you to dinner and you said no? When do you ever decline food_?"

Vegeta slurped the noodles in his mouth. "Her  _fiancé_  didn't exactly look thrilled at the prospect of having a dinner guest. I can take a hint."

" _Fiancé? Since when does she have a fiancé? I thought she was single_."

"Shows how much you know. She's been dating that asshole for years, it would seem. I can't imagine what she sees in him. Doesn't help that he's unfaithful to her," Vegeta said absentmindedly. He took a bite out a piece of beef. "I wonder if she knows or if she's really in the dark."

" _He's cheating on her? Vegeta, you've gotta tell her_."

"Not my problem. And don't go shooting your fat ass mouth off about it to anyone who cares to listen." Vegeta sat his bowl down and went back to the refrigerator. He picked up a brew and opened it with a twist of his hand. "Is there a reason for this call?"

There was a long, hard sigh at the other end. " _Not really. I just wanted to see if you were playing nice with Miss Briefs. We all know how great a team player you are_."

The sarcasm was not lost on Vegeta. He was notorious for being difficult to work with. Sometimes, he did it just to piss off whoever he was working with. Other times, he really did not want to work with others.  _Alone_  suited him just fine. "I've got work to do." Without waiting for a response, Vegeta hung up. He dropped the now-empty bowl in the sink and left the kitchen.

Upstairs in his studio, Vegeta went to a far wall lined with boxes. He pulled one out and opened it up. There were several tubes of oil paint. He shuffled the tubes around, searching for a specific color. He frowned when he only found one half empty tube of blue paint. He held up the tube and sighed.  _I guess I need to go shopping then_... HE paused when his phone vibrated in his pocket again. He took it out and saw it was a text from Bulma.

_**Meet 2morrow at Capsule Studio 2p.** _

Vegeta stared at the message for a moment. He replied in the affirmative and put his phone away.  _The recording studio? Why does she want to go there_?


	4. The First Temptation

 

"So we've gotten blue and green down." Bulma flipped through the sheet music to her new compositions. "I'm in a  _red_  mood. I think red will be the next color I do. What do you think?" She looked in the direction of the only other person in the studio with her.

Vegeta grunted as he continued to sketch. Only two weeks had passed since their first session. Bulma had just finished playing the composition for  _green_. As he listened, he'd been drawing what came to mind. He could already see the vivid shades of green he could use for such a picture. Sitting with Bulma as she composed was very beneficial to his designs. He had missed going to her home, though. Since that one day they'd been there, she had insisted they meet at the studio.

_Probably something to do with that shithead she calls a fiancé_ , the artist thought. He frowned as he thought about Frieza. Every time he'd seen the man, he treated Bulma terribly. Vegeta knew he had asshole-ish tendencies but Frieza put even him to shame. He was putting too much pressure on his pencil and the tip snapped.

The noise caused Bulma to look up. She saw Vegeta mumbling curses under his breath as he opened up a pouch full of utensils. She smiled to herself. The way he got so frustrated with his drawings was endearing. Vegeta showed the most emotion when he drew. Over the last two weeks, in addition to sketches for the ballet, Vegeta had given her plenty of sketches of her. Most of them were pictures of her while she played. There were also a few of her hands. She was still amazed at his ability to draw from memory.

"You okay over there?" she asked. She only earned another grunt as he took out another pencil. Bulma came to realize that Vegeta would never be a big talker. She did not mind his silence, though. Whenever he did speak it was made clear that he had been listening. Bulma took a look at the clock in the studio. "It's about time for lunch. Wanna go out?"

At the mention of food, Vegeta finally glanced over at her. Pizza and takeout had been their diet when together for the duration of the two weeks. Now she wanted to actually leave the studio? "Where do you want to go, woman?"

Bulma appeared thoughtful for a moment. Then she snapped. "There's this awesome food truck a few blocks from here. They serve the best sandwiches. I know it's cold outside but I guarantee you the sandwiches are worth it." Bulma stood up and moved to get her coat. She saw Vegeta slowly rising to his feet. "Let's go. It gets crowded around this time."

The walk to the food truck was mostly silent. Bulma would point out a few things in the shops that surrounded the area, but there was not much said otherwise. The food truck was two blocks down from studio. There were a few patrons, but it was not overly crowded. Bulma knew that would change once lunch hour started. She tugged on Vegeta's sleeve and subtly pulled him along.

When they got to the front of the line at the truck, Bulma looked over the menu. "Um, I'll have a Reuben with extra dressing and sauerkraut. I want it dripping. I'll also have a bottled water. What do you want, Vegeta?"

Vegeta looked away from Bulma and up at the menu. "I can create any sandwich?" he asked. The server nodded, looking expectantly at him. "Very well. I'll have two hot subs with salami, pepperoni, ham, provolone, lettuce, mayonnaise, mustard, tomato, and onion on white bread."

Bulma raised an eyebrow. "You're going to eat two subs? Their sandwiches are already huge."

"I have a big appetite, woman," Vegeta said blandly. Bulma blinked when she noticed the small smirk he gave her as the server handed them a number. She rolled her eyes and walked over to a bench to wait. Vegeta took a seat beside her and looked around.

They sat in silence, taking in the sights around them. It was windy and overcast. The air was not as cold as it had been earlier that morning, but the wind chill was still a factor. Bulma began pondering what she was going to do about the color red.

"The color red..." she whispered under her breath. "It's such a contradictory color."

Vegeta raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that?"

Bulma looked over at him. "Well, red can mean a lot of things and some of them are a contradiction. When you think of red, what is the first thing that comes to mind?"

Without hesitation, Vegeta answered. "Blood."

"Well, okay. When I first think of the color I think of love. I think of passion. You think of blood. Branching off of that, one could add war and fire. War, fire, and blood at the same time as love and passion? It just doesn't seem right."

Vegeta nodded. He could see where she was going with it. "Why can't they all have a similar theme?" He saw Bulma look back at him, silently asking him to explain. "Couldn't fire and passion mean the same thing? You burn with desire. Desire can lead to love. Would you go to war and spill blood for the one they love? Red is power and strength. Red is rage and erotic."

Bulma glanced around at their surroundings, taking in everything Vegeta had said. His explanation had been remarkably thorough and intriguing.  _Red_  was such a complicated color. She closed her eyes and began imagining a few notes.  _It should be powerful and energetic, but sensual and passionate as well. It should have the highest highs and the lowest lows. It should_... She was drawn from her thoughts by Vegeta shoving a bag under her nose. She glanced up at him. When had he gotten up?

"Our sandwiches are done already? But I didn't... Vegeta, you didn't have to pay. This was supposed to be my treat." Bulma stood up and took the bag from Vegeta. He held his own bag and started walking back towards the studio. Bulma fell into step beside him. She opened her bag and inhaled the smell of its contents. "I love the smell of a fresh Reuben."

When they arrived back in the studio, the front receptionist had a message for Bulma. "It was from the bridal shop, Miss Briefs. They said something about another shipment of dresses that you might like to look at. They're holding them all for you."

The pianist snorted as she took the small note the receptionist gave her. There was a name and number on it. She would have to send the information to Juu and have her make the appointment.  _Best if I just hurry up and get it out the way_. She rolled her eyes to herself.  _I don't think I'm supposed to think of my wedding as some sort of duty. I'm pretty sure that isn't normal_.

Vegeta could see Bulma had retreated into her thoughts as the made it back to their reserved studio. Vegeta sat down across from Bulma and immediately began eating. Bulma was slower to unwrap her sandwich. She was fiddling with her phone. It did not matter much to Vegeta. He usually ate in silence anyway. Bulma did most of the talking and the most he gave back were grunts. He was always listening, though.

"Apparently I get an exclusive look at a boutique's wedding dresses. I should tell Juu to just pick one for me. I don't feel like doing such a thing." Bulma took a huge unladylike bite of her sandwich. Her eyes rolled back and she sighed contentedly. "I haven't had one of these in so long. Diets are the bane of mankind."

"Diet? Woman, you don't eat enough."

Bulma was surprised he spoke. Vegeta never spoke while he ate. "I do eat. It's just that I prefer to watch what I eat. Eating a Reuben sandwich every day isn't exactly going to be advantageous to my health. If I could, I would. We can't all be blessed with metabolism like yours," she said. It still amazed her at how much Vegeta could put away. His eating habits were definitely reminiscent of Goku's. The only difference was that Vegeta had far and away the better manners of the two.

"Ridiculous," Vegeta grumbled. He finished off one sandwich and balled up the aluminum it had been wrapped in. He quickly went for his next sandwich. "Isn't a wedding supposed to be every woman's dream? You make it seem like work." He took a bite of his sandwich.

_This must be the most he's ever spoken while eating. We're actually conversing. I feel almost honored_ , Bulma thought with a chuckle. Then she realized what Vegeta said.

"It is work. I have to pick out a dress, pick out dresses for my bridesmaids, pick a venue, pick a cake, pick invitations, send out invitations, make seating charts, pick decorations... There's just so much to do and I know Frieza isn't going to help. Hell, the only input I've received from him is to make sure the reception has an open bar. Weddings just don't  _happen_." Bulma took another angry bite of her sandwich as she thought of the how unhelpful Frieza was.

Vegeta shrugged. "Why not just elope? Save yourself the trouble of planning such a frivolous affair."

"Frieza would never go for that. He's always wanted a spectacle. I don't know. Maybe I'd care more if... Never mind." Bulma stopped talking and stared down at her sandwich. Her appetite was not what it had been.

The artist sensed her unease. He looked down at the last bit of his sandwich. "If you've been given all the choice, use it to your advantage." He stuffed the last bit in his mouth.

Bulma watched Vegeta chew before he got up to throw his trash away.  _He's right. I've been given creative control. I should abuse that power to the fullest extent_. She smiled to herself and continued eating. Her mood was improving already.

"So when can I see your work?"

Vegeta looked over at her. "My work? You want to see my art?"

"Well, you're here with me helping me write the music. Aren't I entitled to see your visions of my music?" Bulma asked. Vegeta narrowed his eyes and looked away from her. She smiled and leaned forward at the table. "Come on, Vegeta. Are you afraid I might not like it?"

"I don't care if you do or you don't, woman. I don't  _need_  your approval on my work." Vegeta caught sight of her big blue eyes. He sighed and turned his head away from her again. "You're going to keep whining, aren't you?" He saw Bulma smile mischievously out of the corner of his eye and sighed in annoyance again. He grunted his answer.

Bulma clapped her hands together. "Thank you, Vegeta! I'll be paying you a visit when you least expect it so be prepared."

* * *

Juu sat on a sofa in the bridal boutique. She kept glancing at her watch and tapping her foot on the floor. Bulma was late.  _I don't know why I expected her to be on time. I expected Chichi to be late. She has a baby. It's understandable. What is keeping Bulma_? She was irritated.

The door to the boutique swung open and a baby stroller was pushed through. Chichi followed it inside and looked around. She saw Juu and moved towards her. She noticed the sour expression on Juu's face. "I assume Bulma is late."

The blonde sighed as she got to her feet. "You assume correctly. Come on. I'll at least get this viewing started." She motioned for Chichi to follow her.

The red-haired stylist saw her coming and smiled. "Is Miss Briefs here? Should we get the dresses out?" She sounded so eager to get started.

"She hasn't arrived yet. However, you can bring out the dresses so that when she finally arrives we may get started as quickly as possible."

The stylist nodded and turned around. She led Juu and Chichi to a large white room in the back of the boutique. There was a changing room along with a sitting area. A pedestal was in the center of the room, surrounded by plush chairs. The stylist motioned for Juu and Chichi to be seated.

"Is there anything I could get you? Something to drink, perhaps? And are there any particular styles Miss Briefs would prefer?" The stylist smiled at the two women.

Juu nodded curtly. "Champagne if you have it. There are only three styles she will be considering: sheath, mermaid, and ball gown. She isn't opposed to any of them having some color to them. That will be all."

* * *

Bulma swung the door to the boutique open. She was at least 30 minutes late. She could already hear Juu's admonishing her about her tardiness.  _She can't really be mad at me. I was working_ , she thought as she glanced around the quiet boutique. Juu and Chichi were nowhere in sight. She saw a stylist come from the back and smile at her.

"Oh Miss Briefs! We've been expecting you. Follow me, please." The stylist immediately turned around. Bulma skipped forward to catch up with her.

As she walked into the white room, Bulma was first seen by baby Gohan. The little boy smiled toothlessly at her and clapped. She smiled and moved towards him, ignoring the evil glare she got from Juu. "Hey, little man!" Bulma hefted Gohan into her arms and hugged him. She glanced down at Chichi. "I didn't miss anything, did I?"

"Besides Juu scaring these poor women, not a thing," Chichi answered. Bulma looked over at Juu. The blonde was still staring icily at her as she finished off the champagne in her flute. She held it out and the stylist retrieved it. Bulma shook her head and took the middle seat.

The stylist returned with Juu's refilled champagne. After handing it off to the blonde, she looked happily at Bulma. "Would you like to get started, Miss Briefs?"

Bulma nodded. "Let's see the sheath dresses first," she replied. The stylist went back and wheeled out a rack of dresses. Bulma got to her feet and went to look at them. She picked out four dresses that caught her eye. The stylist hung them up on a separate rack and wheeled the remaining dresses away. Bulma looked over the dresses she chose. Only one really made her look twice. She picked it up and headed to the fitting room. After she dressed, she came back out and stood on a pedestal.

Chichi observed the dress with a critical eye. It was a relatively simple beaded and embroidered slip gown with a sweetheart neckline and jeweled shoulder straps. It also had a chapel train. "It's strange. It's like it's plain but at the same time it has so much going on. What do you think, Juu?"

"I agree." Juu finished her champagne and sat the glass down. "It's definitely not your style. But, this is your wedding. You have to like the dress. How do you feel about it?"

Bulma turned around on the pedestal and looked at herself in the mirror. They were right. The dress wasn't her. Truthfully, Bulma had no idea where to start. She frowned and stepped off the pedestal. The stylist had wheeled in the rack of mermaid dresses. Bulma walked over to them and looked through them. None of them were her style either. The ball gown dresses came in. She found two that she liked but once they were on she immediately decided she did not like them.

The stylist saw Bulma growing frustrated. Biting her lip, she left the room. When she came back, she was carrying a dress. Bulma was coming out of the changing room when she laid eyes on the dress. She paused and stood completely still. The stylist inwardly smiled when she noticed Bulma's face. "This dress did not come with the dresses that the designers sent us. A little known designer asked us to carry it. I was just about to put it on display, but I'll let you see it first. What do you think? I believe it is in your size."

The pianist slowly took the dress from the stylist. Without a word, she turned and went back to the changing room. When she returned, she stepped on the pedestal. Juu raised an eyebrow at the dress. She looked at the stylist.

"Well, it's a taffeta ruched peplum gown. It has a soft sweetheart neckline and full pickup skirt with bubble tiers in the back. The skirt is accented with light blue flowers made of taffeta and tulle. It's quite simple, but I think it complements your hair very well, Miss Briefs."

Bulma stared at herself in the mirror. She could definitely see herself getting married in such a dress. All the other dresses she'd tried on were either plain white or champagne-colored. She never thought she would find one that complemented her hair so well. The pianist faced Juu and Chichi. "Well? What do you think?"

"I love it," Juu said without hesitation. That was the truth. It was a beautiful dress and it seemed like it had been tailor-made for Bulma. "You'll definitely need a few alterations, though. It looks a little loose up top."

Bulma smiled sneakily. "I can't wait to pick out the bridesmaids dresses." She laughed at the look Juu gave her before turning her attention to Chichi. "You don't mind being one of my bridesmaids, do you?"

Chichi smiled and shook her head. "Of course not! I'd be honored. I've never been the bridesmaid before."

"You're lucky you got to be the bride first," Juu intoned. She pulled her phone out of her purse. "Is this the dress you want?"

Bulma was still looking herself over in the mirror. The dress was so beautiful. It was the perfect dress for the perfect wedding. The smile faded from her face. Was this going to be  _her_  perfect wedding?  _This dress should be worn by someone who would feel as if she'd died and gone to heaven. I don't feel that way about getting married_ , she thought. But could she let the dress go?

"You only come across the perfect dress once, Bulma. Your face says it all. This is the one. Take it," Chichi said. She'd seen Bulma's inner turmoil written all over her face. The pianist seemed to think she did not deserve the dress.

"I'll get it," Bulma resolved. She turned towards the stylist. "What kind of alterations do I need?" she asked. The stylist clapped happily and walked forward.

* * *

The elevator door to Frieza's office opened up. The blonde receptionist looked up and saw the her boss walking in. There was a violet-haired woman hanging on his arm. It was not the first time the receptionist had seen Frieza with this woman and she was certain it would not be the last.

"Cancel all the rest of my appointments today, Lemlia. I'm going to be busy until closing," Frieza said. He began pulling the buxom woman along while she giggled.

Lemlia cleared her throat. "Well, um, I don't think it's wise to go back to your office at this moment, Mr. Cold," she said. Frieza stopped and glared at her, waiting on an explanation. "Miss Briefs is, uh, waiting for you in your office."

Frieza narrowed his eyes and cursed under his breath. The woman on his arm looked up at him questioningly. "Go wait for me in one of the empty offices. I'll call you when I'm done," he said.

"But..."

"Just do it." Frieza walked towards his office. He slowly opened the door and looked inside. Bulma was sitting behind his desk, swiveling around in his chair. She was looking out the large windows. Frieza admired her profile from his vantage point by the door. "This is a surprise," he said.

Bulma turned around in the chair. She smiled when she saw Frieza and stood up. "Hello, dear."

Frieza walked over to a closet and took off his coat. "You usually don't visit me at the office. What's the occasion?" He turned around and saw Bulma holding a piece of light blue cloth. "What's that?"

"It's the color I'm using for the wedding. I found my dress today. It's absolutely beautiful. I can't show you because it's supposed to be a surprise. However," Bulma walked over to him and held up the blue cloth, "this is what color your accents should be."

Frieza examined the cloth Bulma handed him. "So, I can get anything that's this color? Perhaps I should get my tux in this color. A frilly white shirt should go wonderfully..."

Bulma playfully hit Frieza's arm. "That is not funny. You better not show up wearing some atrocious outfit like that. You're only allowed a black or white tux. Your tie and vest should be this color." She reached up and fixed Frieza's disheveled collar. Her hands slowed as she noticed a dark mark on his otherwise pristine white collar. Bulma blinked a few times and then smiled at Frieza. "Well, that's really all I had to say. Is there anything you would like for dinner? I was thinking maybe some chicken or something."

"You might be eating alone tonight, Bulma. I'm swamped with work. I'll be staying at the penthouse tonight." Frieza wrapped his arms around her waist. "I'll be off early tomorrow. How about I take you out tomorrow night to make it up to you? Wherever you want to go and I'll take you."

Keeping the forced smile on her face, Bulma nodded. "That sounds great. Just remember to let me know when you turn in for the night," she said. Frieza nodded and pulled her into a hug. Bulma returned the hug until she caught whiff of a foreign scent. She pulled away from Frieza and patted his cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow." Without waiting for him to respond, Bulma picked up her purse and left.

* * *

Vegeta stepped back away from the humongous canvas. He held a gigantic calligraphy brush in his hands. He used anything he could when he painted. He sat the brush down and walked over to a pan filled with a dark shade of blue oil paint. He dipped his hand in it and walked back towards the backdrop he was painting. With practiced tenderness, he put a few light strokes in the blank spot on the canvas. He stepped back and looked at the large backdrop again.

It was the final section of the entire backdrop for  _blue_. Vegeta had made a scene out of various shades of blue. The painting depicted tranquility in a way that only Vegeta saw it. It was a calm landscape made of different shades of blue. The moon just happened to be on this section of the backdrop.

Satisfied with his work, Vegeta walked across the open room and picked up a towel. He managed to get most of the paint off his hands. He would need to properly wash them in order to get them completely clean. Just as he was heading to the bathroom, he heard a buzzing noise. Someone was outside.

_Who could this possibly be?_  Vegeta sighed and glanced at a clock. It was close to 7pm. The sun had already set. He sighed and went to speaker.

"Who is it?" he asked gruffly. There was a moment of silence and Vegeta was getting ready to speak again.

"It's me."

Vegeta blinked. What was Bulma doing down here so late? "Take the freight elevator." He buzzed her in. He moved quickly to the bathroom and began scrubbing the paint from his arms and hands. He changed into a clean tank top and sweatpants. Just as he was finished dressing, he heard the elevator stop.

Bulma came through the freight elevator's gates and looked around. She was only on the second floor of the building. She had not been sure she was even in the right place until she heard Vegeta's voice on the speaker. The entire floor had been converted into a studio loft. On one end was what could only be described as an artist's studio. The other side had a small living area and kitchen. There was a circular staircase that led to what she assumed might've been a bedroom. She glanced around, not seeing Vegeta.

"Lost your way home, woman?"

Bulma looked above her. Vegeta was leaning on the railing that surrounded the floor above her. She shook her head and smiled. "No. I was just in the neighborhood. Juu told me you had a studio down here so I thought I'd come by. I'm not intruding am I?" She watched him walk towards the staircase and descend it. She squeezed the strap of her purse as she watched him come down.

"Of course not. I was just finishing the first backdrop." Vegeta gestured to his right towards the art part of the loft. He saw Bulma look at him hesitantly. "Well go ahead and look," he said gruffly. Bulma nodded and walked past him.

As Bulma examined the portion of the backdrop that Vegeta had finished, she thought about the music she had composed to go with the piece. The scene Vegeta had created using different shades of blue was magnificent.  _It's beautiful_ , she thought. After examining it, she glanced around the rest of the studio. The place was unbearably neat.

"You're so organized," Bulma mumbled mostly to herself as she walked around the room.

Vegeta crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. He watched Bulma examine his unfinished work and paints. She was not shy about touching anything. "I detest clutter, woman. It's a miracle you get anything done in that studio of yours." He thought back to the disarray that Bulma's private studio had been in.

"It is  _organized_  clutter, Vegeta. I know exactly where everything is. I don't think I could function properly with everything being so... neat," Bulma said with a chuckle. She turned around to face him. "This is a nice place you have."

"Hn," was Vegeta's only response to her compliment. He resisted a smirk when she rolled her eyes. "Are you hungry, woman?"

"Now that you think about it, I'm starving. I haven't eaten since breakfast. All I had was a drink and some crackers after my dress fitting. Are you going to cook?" Bulma raised her eyebrows.

Vegeta leaned up off of the wall. "Woman, my culinary prowess extends no further than the microwave." He walked over to a cabinet in the small kitchen area. He pulled open a drawer and removed a bunch of menus. He spread them out on a table while Bulma approached. "Take your pick. They all deliver."

Bulma looked down at the menus. There was a wide variety of them. "Chinese, Mexican, Indian, Italian... I take it you've eaten at all of these places." She glanced up from the table to see Vegeta shrug. "Well what do you suggest?" she asked. Vegeta walked forward and picked up a green menu. He tossed it forward and it landed in front of Bulma.

"They're pretty decent," Vegeta said. "Their calzones aren't bad."

An hour later, Bulma and Vegeta were lounging in beanbags in front of his TV eating calzones and drinking beer. Bulma finished off her second beer and reached for a third. Vegeta watched her pop the can open and take a large swig of the pint. Once she was done, she placed the can down and picked up her second calzone. Vegeta inwardly smirked as he observed her eating habits.

Bulma noticed Vegeta's staring out of the corner of her eye. "What are you smiling about?" she asked through a mouth full of calzone.

"I do not smile, woman." Vegeta awkwardly straightened up, unhappy that he'd been caught watching her. "I was just observing you. We have eaten together numerous times and never once have your manners been lacking."

She realized what he was implying and scowled at him. "I'm just hungry. I told you that I haven't eaten all day. Besides, you say that I don't eat enough. I haven't eaten like this since I was in college." Bulma took another gulp of her pint. "Eating like this, I probably won't be able to fit in my dress."

"Dress?"

"I didn't tell you? I found my dream dress today." Bulma smiled as she thought about her dress. "It is so beautiful. I want to get married in it. I almost didn't get it."

"Why not?"

Bulma shrugged while chewing. She washed her food down with another gulp of beer. "I thought that a dress like that should be worn by someone who will be happy in it. If I wear it, chances are I'll be miserable. But it was just so beautiful." She sighed and mentally shrugged. "I don't wanna marry Frieza."

The admission was not a surprise to Vegeta. Anyone with eyes could see she was less than enthused about marrying the man. What surprised Vegeta was that she was talking about it so freely. "Then why did..."

"I think he's cheating on me," Bulma interrupted. Vegeta awkwardly swallowed his bit of food and took a sip of his own beer. He was also on his third. He saw Bulma was not done talking. "I actually  _know_ he's cheating on me. He's so shameless with it, too. It's like he doesn't even try to hide the signs. Remember the after party?"

_Yes, I remember that party well_ , Vegeta thought. He did not vocalize his thoughts, choosing to just nod instead.

"Well, when we were leaving I saw him coming from the bar area. He had lipstick smudged on his face. I knew exactly what it was but I pretended I didn't. I saw him before I came here. He had lipstick on his collar and he smelled like some awful perfume. I know it wasn't mine because I never wear the stuff. God, he smelled terrible." Bulma crinkled up her nose. She stuffed the last of her calzone in her mouth and chewed furiously.

"If you know all of this, why do you stay with the man? Surely you're smarter than that, woman."

Bulma sat still as she finished chewing. She held up her left hand and looked at the ring adorning her finger. "Do you know what Frieza would do if I even suggested a break up?" She let out a humorless cackle. She grabbed her can of beer and got to her feet. She started walking around the loft, looking at everything. "So why do you still have this place?"

Vegeta watched her warily. She was obviously a bit tipsy. He got to his feet as well and followed after her. "This was my home for years. Plus, it serves as a place to work."

The pianist grunted in response. She came to a bookshelf filled with albums. She remembered what Chichi had said about Vegeta's albums. She looked at the black leather albums. He had at least 5 of them. Smirking, Bulma picked up one. "Picture album?" she asked, looking back at Vegeta. He growled and tried to take it from her. Bulma expertly dodged him and flounced away. "Chichi told me what you do when you're stressed." She skipped away from him.

Grumbling to himself, Vegeta followed after her. She polished off her can of beer and sat the empty can on a bookshelf. She made her way back to the beanbags and sat down. Vegeta remained standing and watched as Bulma looked over the pictures in his album. She raised an eyebrow as she flipped through the pages. While the pictures were indeed graphic, they were done quite tastefully.

_Graphic and tasteful... How does that work exactly?_  Bulma turned the page a paused. She turned her head to try and understand the position the three women in the picture were in. She looked at Vegeta for answers.

Vegeta smirked at Bulma's confusion. "They were contortionists."

"I honestly can't tell which limb belongs to whom. How did they even accomplish this position?" Bulma glanced around the room. "You took all these pictures here?"

"Where else would I take them?"

"Stupid question." Bulma got up and made her way back to the bookshelf. She placed the album back in its place. She sighed and turned around.

Vegeta walked up behind her. "It is getting very late, woman. Shouldn't you be getting home? I wouldn't want your  _fiancé_ to come after me for keeping you out past your bedtime." He finished off his own beer.

Bulma frowned and slapped Vegeta on the arm. He did not laugh, but she could see that he was amused by her reaction. "I do not have a  _bedtime_. I can go home whenever I feel like it. I'm a grown woman." She walked past him back to the beanbag and sat down. "Besides, Frieza isn't even at home. He's at the penthouse, probably fucking some broad."

"Who knew you were so foulmouthed, woman," Vegeta said. Bulma shrugged and sighed as she relaxed. "You should leave him."

The pianist raised her eyes to Vegeta. He was walking over to the other side of loft. Bulma let her eyes travel over his body. Vegeta was gorgeous. She'd noticed his good looks before but with him dressed down she could not help but stare. Sure, Frieza was handsome but there was something different about Vegeta's  _handsomeness_. Maybe it was just the way he carried himself; like he was royalty or something.

_That could be it_ , she thought. She raised her hand to look at her watch. Vegeta was right; it was well after midnight.  _I really should go_.

Vegeta heard movement behind him. He turned his head to see Bulma putting on her heels. Once she had them on, she moved slowly towards the coat rack. Vegeta took notice of how she wobbled.  _She can't go home alone_ , he thought as he watched her. Sighing, he went to find his own shoes.

When she noticed that Vegeta was putting on sneakers and a hoodie, she stopped moving. "Where are you going?"

He snorted. "Woman, you are intoxicated."

"Well, it isn't like I'm driving. I'm just taking a cab. I'll be home in no time." Bulma smiled slyly. "You aren't worried about me, are you?"

"I worry about you like I worry about a toothache, woman." Vegeta turned off the lights, leaving them in the dark. He stepped up beside Bulma. "Let's go," he whispered in her ear. Bulma reached out and grabbed hold of his hoodie. She held on to him as they entered the elevator.

* * *

When the cab pulled up between their brownstones, Bulma was the first out. She stood on the sidewalk and looked up at her home. There was a single light on. She smiled to herself, knowing Puella had left it on for her. The housekeeper knew Bulma did not like walking into dark places. She turned around and saw Vegeta paying the driver.

"Vegeta, I was going to pay him!" she said loudly. Vegeta glared over at her as the cab pulled off. He blinked as Bulma looped her arm with his and pulled him towards her stoop. Bulma felt him stiffen and giggled. He was clearly shy about their proximity. When they got to her door, she quickly unlocked the door and stepped inside. She faced Vegeta. "Well..."

Vegeta gave her a blank stare. "Well?"

"Thanks for the food and beer. I had a nice time."

"You speak as if we are courting, woman."

Bulma rolled her eyes. "You speak as if you're from a different time. Who calls it  _courting_  anymore? But, no it was not a date. Just two friends spending time together. I'm allowed to do that, aren't I?"

He gave her a smirk. "So I'm your friend now?"

"I thought we were friends." Bulma crossed her arms. "Aren't we friends?"

"I have no friends, woman."

Bulma laughed softly and stepped back outside to stand in front of him. "You're my friend, Vegeta." She gave him a small peck on the cheek. Vegeta's eyes were wide as she pulled back away from him. She looked surprised at her own actions. She took a step back from Vegeta. The two stood staring at one another. Bulma saw his gaze drop from her eyes to her lips. She was suddenly aware of how close they had gotten. She could feel his lips were almost on hers.

Then her phone started to vibrate, bringing them back down to reality. Bulma took out her phone and saw she had a message from Frieza telling her he was turning in. She stuffed it back in her purse and looked back at Vegeta. "I don't know what... I shouldn't have..." She looked away and ran a hand through her hair.

"Woman..."

"I didn't mean to... Oh god..."

"Woman!" Vegeta said loudly. Bulma's head snapped towards him. "It's fine. We're friends, remember?"

Bulma stared at him for what seemed like a long time. Then she nodded slowly. "I suppose we are." She took another step back and inside her home. "Good night, Vegeta." He simply grunted in response. Bulma smiled and closed the door. She leaned against it and heard Vegeta walk away. Sighing, she turned around and stared at the dim foyer. Shaking her head, she headed up the stairs to her room.

_Is it wrong that I wanted it to happen?_


	5. That Moment

Vegeta listened as the recorded music that Bulma had given him played over the speakers in his home. She'd started making him recordings of her music. She said it was to help him as he painted even though he sketched as she composed. The color they were on was  _green_. All of Vegeta's sketches had not been good enough for his liking. How was he supposed to depict this color?

 _Green is fertility. Green is growth. Green is... Envy. What a difference in emotions_ , the artist thought.  _Watercolors_.

The artist was standing in his brownstone, looking at the wall of the foyer. Every wall was bare in his brownstone. He'd had the walls stripped of their (quite hideous) wallpaper and made bare canvases for him. There were several pails of paint scattered throughout the area. The wooden floors were covered in blue tarp and the painters tape was already placed. Vegeta strapped a belt that held his various brushes around his waist and looked up at the wall. He took out a rather small brush and dipped it in blue paint.

While painting and having the music behind him, his mind ran through images of what the music conveyed to him. He saw flowers and forests; mothers and children. What could he paint to convey the darkness of the color: envy? Pretty soon, he started to tune the music out and continued on with his mural. His mind drifted to the woman herself.

Bulma had been rather busy and their sessions had become sparse. When she did find the time to actually meet up with him, it was never for very long. She also seemed distracted and was not her usual talkative self. There had been a few times when she came into her studio rather sullen and she kept her gloves on. He knew for a fact that she hated playing with gloves on, but he said nothing on the matter.

They had not spoken about their  _almost kiss_  a few weeks earlier. In fact, they'd both been acting like it never even happened. Vegeta supposed it would not do to dwell on something that did not happen. Perhaps that was why Bulma had become more withdrawn. There was also the issue of her wedding. He'd been formally invited with both a  _save the date_  and an invitation.

 _Weddings. So much goes into a ceremony that lasts all of ten minutes. Such a frivolous activity_ , he thought with a sneer. He leaned forward to draw a small line with his brush. When he was done, he put the brush away and took out a slightly larger one. He dipped it in the black paint and went back to where he'd begun the mural.  _Why is she even going through with it?_

A foreign noise eventually broke through his concentration. It sounded like a bell. Vegeta stopped painting and looked towards the front door. He'd just realized that he was a good distance away from where he began the mural. Did he really paint that much  _that_  fast? The bell went off again and then the doorknocker sounded. Vegeta placed his paintbrush in his belt and wiped his hands on his sweatpants. He headed towards the door and opened it.

"What?" he asked before even seeing who it was in front of him.

"Is that how you always answer the door?" Bulma stood before him. She was holding a plate covered in saran wrap and a plastic bag, the contents of which Vegeta could not see.

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "State your business, woman. I'm busy," he said while trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. He was actually rather glad to see her. It was not often that she came to  _him_.

Bulma smiled and pushed her way past him. "I brought snacks." She paused when she noticed everything scattered around the foyer. The smell of paint was almost overwhelming. "Someone has been busy," she said with a smile. She turned away from Vegeta and continued down the hall. If the layout of his brownstone was anything like hers, she knew where the kitchen was.

The artist just stood in the open doorway for a moment. Rolling his eyes, he shut and locked the door. After closing up the paint he'd been using, he followed Bulma to his kitchen. Bulma had already taken off her coat and scarf and draped them across a chair in the adjacent breakfast area. She was going through his newly installed steel cabinets. Vegeta folded his arms and leaned against the island, watching as Bulma eventually found his pots and took out a small one.

"What are you doing, woman?" Vegeta's eyes drifted to the covered plate. Before he could properly make out what was on the plate, he heard the rustling of the plastic bag.

"You don't go out much, do you?" Bulma asked. She pulled a half gallon of milk out of the bag along with a tin of cocoa and container of sugar. There was a can of whipped cream along with half-and-half. Bulma took the pot and began filling it with water.

"How do you figure that?" Vegeta asked, watching her move around the kitchen quickly.

Bulma smiled as she sat the pot on the stove and turned it on. "I may spend a lot of time in my home, but I notice things. I noticed that you don't leave this place often. I also know that you usually go to one of two places; your other studio or to my recording studio. I've never really seen you go  _out_ , you know?"

The artist frowned slightly. "I do go out, woman." He watched her began mixing the cocoa and sugar before pouring it into the water. She stirred it for a moment and then faced him. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I'm making hot cocoa. Look. I even made cookies." Bulma walked over to the plate and removed the plastic. Vegeta was accosted with the smell of freshly baked cookies.

"I never took you for a baker, woman."

"I wish I was. My housekeeper made them for me. I know my way around a kitchen, but only with the simplest of things. If it comes in a box or can with instructions, I'm your woman. If it's from scratch, you'll probably end up with something inedible." Bulma went back over to the pot. She poured in some milk in the pot and then put a little vanilla extract in. She stepped away and pulled out some mugs from one of the cabinets. Bulma giggled when she noticed the look Vegeta was giving her. "Well, I did have to search for a damn pot."

Vegeta sighed and took a seat on one of the stools under the island. He continued to watch Bulma fix them two mugs of hot cocoa. She topped them both with whipped cream and brought them to the island. She took a seat on the stool beside him and pulled the cookies closer. Vegeta stared at the cocoa for a moment before raising it to his mouth.

The pianist watched out of the corner of her eye as discreetly as she could. When he did not frown after tasting the hot drink, she gave herself a mental pat on the back for a job well done. "I thought you might like that." She bit into a cookie.

"What made you decide to come here?"

Bulma shrugged. "It was really quiet in the house. The only sound was the metronome."

"Your fiancé left you alone again?"

"Well, it is in the middle of the day on a Wednesday, Vegeta. If you worked at a brokerage firm where would you be right now?"

Vegeta stuffed another cookie in his mouth. "Lunch."

Bulma giggled at his answer. She noticed her music playing in the background for the first time. Standing, she took her mug with her and left the kitchen. She could hear Vegeta following her. "I'm sorry for the way I've been acting the past few weeks. Everything has just gotten so hectic. I didn't know picking out wedding invitations would be such a chore. Then there's seating arrangements. Why can't everyone just..." Bulma trailed off when she entered the sunroom at the back of the brownstone.

The room was brightly lit with the large glass windows that let all the light in. There was great view of Vegeta's backyard that had a modest garden in it. But that was not what caught Bulma's eye. The large wall mural that stretched around the walls left her almost speechless. It was simply amazing. It was nothing but roses of different colors along with thorn vines, but it was the abstract way in which they were painted. Bulma walked towards one wall and subconsciously reached out for one of the painted roses. Before she touched it, she pulled her hand away as if she had been burned.

"The wall won't scorch your hand off, woman. Just don't press your hand against it. I don't need you fingerprinting the wall," Vegeta said plainly. He continued to sip his cocoa as Bulma touched the red rose on the wall.

Bulma softly ran her hand across the painting. She stepped back and continued to look at the mural. "Vegeta, this is amazing. You did this yourself?"

"I am an artist, woman. Do you really think I'd let another come in my home and paint it?" He snorted his derision at the very thought of another person raising a paintbrush within these walls.

"I suppose not," Bulma replied with a small chuckle. "Even if they're so abstract, they seem almost real. It's like I can reach out and touch them. When did you find the time to do all of this?" She turned and looked at him. Vegeta was determinedly looking out the large windows. "You  _go out_ , huh?"

Vegeta shrugged. "I am not a recluse, woman. I just prefer to spend my time alone."

"You're an introvert. There's nothing wrong with that, Vegeta. Not everyone can be a social butterfly. I saw you were making another mural in the front as well. Will you do the entire brownstone?" Bulma received a nod in affirmation. "Wow. This is a huge place."

"It's actually quite relaxing." Vegeta glanced back at Bulma. She was looking at the walls again. "Follow me, woman."

Bulma watched Vegeta turn away from her. She quickly followed after him. He guided her up a flight of stairs and into a room. He turned on the light and stepped to the side to let her in. Bulma walked forward. There was some sort of forest painted on the walls. Upon closer inspection, Bulma saw that it was not done with paintbrushes. She did not place a hand on the walls this time. Instead, she walked around. It was a forest, but it was bare and done completely with charcoal. The room's furniture was still covered with plastic, but Bulma could see that most of it was black or gray. She noticed Vegeta had disappeared from the doorway and she followed.

He guided her to another room down the hall. This seemed to be a guest bedroom. Bulma stepped in and looked around. She was greeted with a watercolor mural. Bulma walked around and absorbed the painting; almost committing it memory.

"You should be getting paid for this, Vegeta. Where do you get the ideas for these?" Bulma asked. When she received no answer, she saw that Vegeta had disappeared again. Rolling her eyes, she followed after him. He had gone into another room across the hall. Bulma walked in quickly behind him and paused.

It was like looking at the ocean. Everything was so lifelike. Bulma walked over to the sheet-covered couch in the room and took a seat. She glanced over at Vegeta. He sighed and joined her. The two sat in silence, finishing off their cocoa and listening to Bulma's music over the speakers.

"Your house is so much more relaxing than mine. Mine seems stuffy and cluttered compared to yours. Aside from the paintings, everything is so... simple." Bulma smirked and looked over at Vegeta. "I like simple."

Vegeta smirked back at her. "One would never guess that by looking at you. You seem quite high-maintenance to the untrained eye."

"I am, though. I'm high-maintenance in a  _simple_  way. I only require a few things, but they may be things within a certain price range." Bulma sat her mug down on the coffee table in front of her and relaxed back. She closed her eyes and zoned in on the music. "I never really take the time to listen to my own music once I've written and performed it. I'm impressed with this one. It's so... calming," she said after a moment. She inhaled and exhaled slowly.

* * *

When Bulma opened her eyes again, she'd realized that she'd fallen asleep. She was no longer in the room she'd last remembered being, but was instead in another room that was virtually empty except for the large saucer chair she was now curled up in. A red blanket was covering her. Bulma pulled the cover down. She could still hear her music playing, but this time it was a different song. Bulma recognized it as the song for  _red_. She looked around at the walls to see their design.

The room was markedly different from the others. What covered the walls was not paintings, but instead what drawings of what appeared to be comic book characters drawn in a film noir style. There were speech bubbles near a few of them but no words had been written yet. There were no colors; just simply black and the stark white that was already on the walls. There were a few pails of black paint in a far corner and a lot of black and white photos were scattered across the floor. Bulma got to her feet and went over to the wall directly across from her.

 _I'm almost certain this character here is supposed to be Goku_ , she thought with a chuckle. In fact, she could recognize a few people in the room.  _I wonder where_...

"You're finally awake, woman." Vegeta did not break his stride as he entered the room. He was carrying a pail of paint. Bulma saw that he was covered in more paint than she remembered. He had black paint marks all over his arms and a few marks on his face. His hands appeared relatively clean, though.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep. I guess I got comfortable after drinking that cocoa. How long was I out and why did you move me?"

Vegeta walked over to a blank spot on the wall and sat the paint down. "It's been about an hour. I had things to do and I didn't want you waking up and screaming your head off. I doubt you would've immediately remembered you were here," he said quickly. He raised his head and looked at Bulma. She was back to looking at the wall. He took in her appearance. "I have a favor, woman."

Bulma turned her head back to look at him. "Hm? What kind of favor?"

"Let me photograph you."

The pianist stared a Vegeta blankly for a moment. She had a brief flashback to the pictures in one of Vegeta's albums at his studio. Laughing, she shook her head. "I've seen what sort of photos you take, Vegeta. I think I'll..."

"Why would I take pictures of you like that, woman?" He bent down and shuffled through a few of the pictures on the floor. He grabbed a few and held them out to Bulma. "Like this."

Bulma took the pictures and looked at them. One was of Goku and Bulma recognized it from the painting on the wall. The other pictures she held were also of Chichi and a few other people Bulma did not know. A lot of them were already painted on the wall. Bulma held the pictures back out to Vegeta. He snatched them away from her and tossed them on the floor.

"Well, I suppose. You want to take them here?"

"No. The light isn't quite right here. We'd have to do it at my studio." Vegeta turned away from her and looked at the unpainted outline on the wall.

The pianist watched as the artist went to work. Bulma realized that she'd never actually watched Vegeta as he painted. She'd only seen him while he was sketching. Sitting back in the chair, she watched him as he started painting in the lines. For someone whose facial expressions rarely changed, Vegeta made quite a few faces Bulma had never seen as he painted. She could describe it as deep concentration, but every now and then he would mumble to himself and shake his head. His face even softened occasionally. Bulma found that he looked much younger and less severe when his eyes were not narrowed.

Vegeta seemed to realize that he'd been under Bulma's scrutiny for quite a while and she had not said anything. "Perhaps you should be the one taking pictures, woman."

"Oh?" Bulma was startled that he'd even spoken and that was all she could get out at present.

"Yes."

"And why would do you think I should be the one capturing this moment in time in a picture?"

"You've been staring at me for the past thirty minutes. Perhaps you'd like to preserve this moment."

Bulma chuckled. "Not really. It's just nice seeing you in your element. You've seen me in mine. I know I've said it quite a lot, but your art is really amazing. I don't think I've ever heard of someone having so many different styles to choose from. I'm jealous. My prowess barely extends to stick figures."

Vegeta paused for a moment as he was dipping his brush back into the paint. He looked up at Bulma. She was sitting with her elbows on her knees and her chin resting in her palms. Her face had a bright smile adorning it. If he could take the picture, it would be this moment with the way she was looking at him. He'd received plenty of praise through the years, but for some reason he was really moved by Bulma's words to him. He cleared his throat and looked away from the beautiful woman and back at his painting.

"When might you have free time to take the photos?" Vegeta asked without looking back at her.

"Hm... I suppose I could do it tomorrow after looking into floral arrangements. I won't be busy after that." Bulma checked her watch. It was almost 6pm. "I have to go now, though. I should probably get dinner started."

"Hmph."

The pianist glared over at Vegeta as she stood. "What?"

" _You_  aren't going to get anything started. Your housekeeper is," Vegeta said as he stood as well.

* * *

Frieza was walking up the stoop just as the door to Vegeta's brownstone opened. At first, he paid the other man no mind. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the flash of blue and heard a familiar voice. Turning his head, he saw Bulma walking out the front door. She was saying something about milk and cocoa. Frieza paused and watched her as she made her way down the stoop. It did not take her long to notice him.

"Frieza! You're home early!" Bulma said loudly. She walked quickly to get over to their stoop. "Bye, Vegeta!" She specifically refrained from saying  _see you tomorrow_. Vegeta simply grunted and looked at Frieza.

The two men stared at one another for a moment, neither saying a word. Bulma could feel the tension and cleared her throat. She took Frieza's key from his hands and unlocked the door. Giving Vegeta another smile and wave, she entered the house and dragged Frieza inside as well. Vegeta stood there for a moment before turning and going back inside his own home.

Frieza sat his briefcase down. Bulma returned to his side and helped him out of his jacket. "What were you doing over there?" he asked without preamble.

"We are working together, Frieza. I had a little free time so I went next door to see how his side of the project was coming. What do you want for dinner?" Bulma took his coat and hung it in the closet to her left. She also removed her own and hung it up. Touching her neck, she realized her scarf was gone. She thought about going to get it, but quickly decided against that when she saw the look on Frieza's face. "What?"

"I don't like that guy," he said plainly.

"He's just an associate. I've worked with plenty of men before. What's so different about Vegeta?" Bulma gave him a peck on his cheek. She inhaled as she came away from him and rolled her eyes as the foreign perfume filled her nostrils. She expertly hid her disgust as she turned away from him and started walking back towards the kitchen.

"I just don't like  _him_. Something about him rubs me the wrong way."

"Well, I think you're being silly. Now what do you want for dinner?"

* * *

Later that night, Bulma sat in the parlor at her piano. The metronome ticked back and forth. After a few minutes, Bulma began playing from the sheet music in front of her. She'd kept the tempo to the metronome. A smile grew across her face as she continued all the way to the end of the song.  _This is it. This is red_ , she thought. Before she could start playing again, the door to the parlor opened.

"You're still up?"

Bulma did not bother turning around. "Whenever inspiration strikes I have to get it down or I'll lose it. Why are you still up? I thought you went to bed earlier." She heard Frieza moving closer to her but still did not turn. She did reach forward and turn the metronome off, though. She was well aware how much Frieza hated the sound.

Frieza's arms snaked around her shoulders and pulled her into an embrace. "I noticed the bed was cold. Come on back upstairs," he said.

"I'll be upstairs soon, Frieza. I really need to do this before it leaves me. You know how much my work means to me." She pried his arms away from her and turned on the bench. Pulling him down by his pajama shirt, she gave him a quick kiss. "Now go on upstairs. I'll be there in about ten minutes. I promise."

Her fiancé pouted childishly for a moment but eventually nodded. Bulma watched him retreat from the room. Once the door was closed, she let out a relieved sigh and started the metronome once again. She had to hurry before Frieza became restless.

* * *

"This place is terrible." Juu glanced around the florist shop in disdain. The place was humongous for just being a place that sold flowers. "I can already feel my sinuses rebelling against me."

Bulma chuckled and pulled Juu along. "It's not that bad, Juu. We'll only be here for a few minutes. Chichi advised me what flowers to pick and styles."

"Oh? You're not going to personally pick any arrangements?"

"No. I don't have the time or the patience to meticulously pick flowers. If it were up to me, you'd all be carrying bouquets of wildflowers picked from some overgrown lawn. Consider yourself lucky I'm even picking out flowers."

"Duly noted." Juu noticed Bulma seemed a little perkier than usual. The past few weeks had had her looking like she was preparing for her execution instead of getting married. "You're in rather high spirits today. What's got you so happy?"

Bulma looked over at Juu as they waited for the florist to come to them. "Nothing really. I did manage to compose an entire song last night. I redid  _red_. That might have something to do with my mood. Perhaps I should spend more time talking to Vegeta..."

"Vegeta? So you two are getting along?" Juu watched Bulma shrug. "I'm surprised. Krillyn tells me he's notoriously difficult to work with. Plus, your first meeting was not exactly one to remember."

"He isn't that bad, Juu. As a matter of fact, I'm going to see him once I'm done here."

"Oh really? More  _work_?"

"I don't think I like what you're insinuating."

"I didn't insinuate anything. Someone has a guilty conscience." Juu nearly laughed when Bulma glared back at her. "Relax, Bulma. Seriously, what are you two going to do today?"

"Well," Bulma put a stray hair behind her ear, "he asked to photograph me."

Juu stared at her blankly before shaking her head. "That should be interesting, considering what you told me about his albums. Will these be your gifts to Frieza; some scantily-clad pictures? What do they call them again?  _Boudoir photos_."

Bulma playfully shoved Juu. "Nothing like that, Juu. He has this room in his house where he has painted a bunch of people from the pictures. Even Goku and Chichi are there. Vegeta's house is... interesting. He uses the walls of his home just like a big canvas."

The blonde listened as Bulma went into great detail about the different paintings Vegeta had done. A small smirk came to her face. Bulma appeared quite happy when describing her day with Vegeta. In fact, she always seemed more alive whenever she spoke about Vegeta. Juu frowned for a moment, realizing what was going on.  _She likes him; she likes him more than she probably should_ , she thought.

Juu nodded absentmindedly at Bulma as she continued to describe Vegeta's house. She decided that she would see how things played out. She had not seen Bulma looks so happy in months. The blonde did not want to spoil it for her friend.

* * *

Vegeta was lazily flipping through channels when he heard the buzzer. He rose from his beanbag and walked towards panel. "What?"

"You really need to work on your greetings, Vegeta."

The artist did not honor that with a response and buzzed Bulma up. He walked over to the other side of the studio and opened a chest. Bulma came through the elevator a few minutes later. She glanced around for him before spotting him pulling out cameras from a chest. She sat her purse down and walked over to him. She looked down at the cameras that were spread out.

"None of these are digital," she noticed.

"What amazing powers of observation you have, woman." Vegeta stood up. "I don't use digital cameras."

"Why not? Everything is digital these days. Then you know that people use all those photo programs on computers to alter pictures. You don't use any of that?" Bulma asked.

Vegeta picked up a black twin-lens reflex camera. Seeing that there was no film inside, he went in search of a roll. He could hear Bulma following after him. "There is a certain charm that medium format cameras have that those others do not. I'd rather not fake the look to my pictures. I don't want to retouch them. I want them as is. I want them to retain their originality and not be tampered with." He found a roll of 120 film and began to install it.

Bulma turned away from him, pondering his words about why he still used medium format cameras. Vegeta sounded like such an old soul sometimes. Smiling to herself, she went and stood by the windows and took a look outside. Her mind drifted to the flowers and then to the music she composed the night before. A small smile came to her face when she thought about how quickly she'd recomposed the music for  _red_. It was too late when she heard the shutter go off.

He was already winding the camera by the time Bulma realized her picture had just been taken. Vegeta did not even look up at her while he wound the camera. She was frowning and had her arms crossed. Without a word, Bulma took off her coat and tossed it over one of the bean bag chairs. Vegeta looked up at her, noticing her attire. She was wearing a sleeveless ruffled shirt, a black pencil skirt, black hose, and black pumps.

"Are you going to a funeral after this, woman?" he asked.

"Hardy har har, Vegeta. Says the man who lives in sweatpants. Where do you want to take these pictures?" Bulma asked, looking around the studio. Before he could say anything, Bulma moved towards the elevator. Vegeta watched her and then followed. Bulma stood in the old elevator and glanced around it.

"Interesting choice, woman." Vegeta flicked on one of the lights. It was dim, but it provided just the right amount of light Vegeta wanted for the picture. "Pose."

Suddenly, Bulma felt incredibly self-conscious. She'd been to many photo shoots, so she was not inexperienced with photographers. However, having Vegeta take a picture of her was something she had not prepared herself for. He was not directing her like other photographers would. Before she could inquire as to what he wanted her to do, she heard the shutter go off.

"Why do you keep doing that?" she asked with a roll of her eyes.

"Your candid faces..." Vegeta paused and wound the film. "Sometimes the candid pictures are the best. This is fast film, so you don't have to hold your pose very long."

"Um okay." Bulma leaned against the fence of the elevator and looked towards Vegeta. He snapped another picture. He took three more pictures before telling her to pick another place.

Bulma looked around the studio. She noticed the staircase and ascended it. Vegeta watched her for a moment before following. There wasn't really anything upstairs except the bathroom and a bed with a white canopy surrounding it. Bulma found the white down comforter interesting. She faced Vegeta to see if she had permission. He shrugged and she walked over to the bed. She sat down on the low bed where the canopy opened. As she began to remove her pumps, she heard the shutter go off. Shaking her head, she continued on. Once they were off, she leaned back on the bed.

"Take your hair out of that ridiculous bun," Vegeta commanded.

"It is not ridiculous and it's not a bun. It's a  _chignon_. I'll have you know I worked very hard to get this hairstyle right." Bulma took out multiple hairpins before shaking her blue hair down. Vegeta took a picture as she was preparing her hair. The loose waves fell around her face, past her shoulders and she looked up at him. "How's this?"

Vegeta finished winding the film and looked over at her. She was sitting with her legs stretched out in front of her, crossed at the ankles, leaning back on her hands, and staring up at him with wide eyes. "Frieza is a fool to ever stray from you, woman," he said before than his mind could stop him. He immediately looked away from her.

Bulma heard what he said and gaped at him for a moment. Then she chuckled. She would not poke fun at his comment. That was as close to a compliment as she was going to get and she was going to cherish this moment. "Damn right he is. Now take some pictures while I pose for you, monsieur."

After that, it became easier to pose for Vegeta. Crawling across the bed also made it fun. Once the roll was done, Vegeta found himself refilling the camera. While he was downstairs, Bulma stood from the bed and made her way towards the brick wall. There were a few paintings hung and she looked around at them. They were mostly impressionist pieces. She stopped at one that was filled with different shades of orange and stared at it.

"Woman."

Bulma turned her head but not her body. Vegeta snapped the picture. "That is an interesting camera, Vegeta." Bulma turned around completely and started to approach him. Vegeta took a step back took another picture. "I've only seen a camera like that in old movies."

"I'm sure I have many cameras that you haven't seen, woman." Vegeta handed the camera to her and showed her wordlessly how to use it as he placed her hands in all the right places. He stepped around her and showed her how to focus it. "Now take the picture."

She snapped a picture of the empty bed and started to wind the film. "Go get on that bed, Vegeta. I'll take a picture of you."

"I don't take pictures, woman," he replied quickly as he walked away from her.

"Is that so?" Bulma sat the camera down on the floor and went after him. She took hold of his arm and pulled him towards the bed. He put up some resistance and Bulma ended up slipping on the hardwood floor due to the lack of traction on her hose. Vegeta immediately looked down to see if she'd hurt herself but Bulma just laughed it off.

Vegeta watched her laugh and completely missed her swinging her legs around and taking one of his feet from under him. He ended up on his backside across from her. Sitting up, he glared maliciously at her. Bulma tried to stop laughing but his face only made her laugh harder.

"I'm sorry, Vegeta! Your face! You really should see your face!" Bulma got to her feet and went over to retrieve the camera. "Now go get on that bed."

The artist got to his feet. "If you wanted me in bed all you had to do was ask, woman."

"I did..." Bulma looked at the mischievous smirk on his face. "That's not what I meant, pervert!" She watched him go and get on the bed. He lounged on it like a jungle cat. Bulma shook her head and stepped forward to focus the picture. Once she took the picture, she went over and stood near the edge of the bed. Vegeta took the camera from her and leaned back. Bulma put her hands in her hair and posed as exaggeratedly as she possibly could. Vegeta snapped a few pictures as she ran her hands down her body in what he assumed she thought was a  _sexy_  way.

"Woman, you are a bizarre creature." He sat the camera down.

Bulma laughed and sat down on the edge of the bed. "So are you going to paint me on your wall next to Goku and Chichi?"

"Perhaps. But your pictures might be far too hideous for me to choose from. Then I won't have anything to paint." He said it so seriously that Bulma almost believed him. He was not surprised when she hit him over the head with a pillow. Vegeta reached up to wrench the pillow from her. In their tug-o-war, she ended up losing and fell forward on top of him. Vegeta did not move for a moment. "Silly woman," he whispered.

The pianist stopped all movement herself. She had to remind herself to breathe. Vegeta's expression was one of pure neutrality. He did not look like he was going to do anything in that moment. It was as if he was leaving it all up to her. He was letting her decide the next course of action. After what seemed like an eternity, Bulma did decide.

She kissed him.

For a second, he did not respond and Bulma thought she had made a terrible mistake. That thought was quickly dashed as Vegeta's lips moved against hers. He sat up, lips never leaving hers. Bulma shifted her body so that she was straddling him properly, her skirt hiked up. Vegeta's hands rested on the small of her back and Bulma held his face between her hands.

Recognizing the need to breathe, Bulma broke the kiss but did not move away from him. She said nothing and just listened to their breathing. "I rewrote  _red_ ," she said suddenly. It was a strange thing to say at moment when her lips were still brushing against Vegeta's.

"Why?" Vegeta whispered back.

"There wasn't enough... emotion." Bulma pulled away further to look at him. Vegeta's expression was again neutral. If anyone were to walk in at that moment and judge their expressions, only Bulma would appear flustered. "Emotion... I've gotta go." She quickly climbed off of him and towards the end of the bed. She reached for her pumps to put them on. Then the shutter went off.

Vegeta had taken another picture of her as she was reaching for her pumps. "Don't mind me, woman."

Bulma smirked and shook her head. "You have an interesting way of dealing with what just happened." She fumbled clumsily as she tried to pull her left boot on.

"How would you prefer I react? This is my place so I don't have to run like you are."

"I am  _not_  running, Vegeta." Bulma got to her feet. "Why would I run away?"

"What do you call what you're doing now? I'm certain it should be easier to put on a shoe than that. You're trying to get away from here as quickly as possible." Vegeta tuned away from her and headed for the stairs.

"What?" Bulma mumbled as she watched him walk. Forgetting her pumps, he stomped forward and grabbed his arm. Vegeta turned and faced her, his face still as impassive as ever. "You're the one acting like nothing happened."

Vegeta sighed. "Why the hell did you do that, woman?"

The question was simple. Bulma held her mouth open and looked away from Vegeta. She crossed her arms on her chest and shook her head. "I don't know. It just seemed like a good idea at the moment."

"You're not simply doing it out of spite for your own lover?"

Bulma's arms dropped to her sides and she clenched her fists. How dare he imply that she was simply out for some sort of vengeance against Frieza! "If there is one reason I did not do it for it is that I did it out of spite. I kissed you because I wanted to. Not because I loathe the asshole I'm getting married to. I kissed you because for some reason I like you. I like your company, even if you barely speak and you're a fucking prick sometimes." Just as Bulma raised her head to look at Vegeta again, he grabbed her and pulled her into a kiss.

This was not the soft, chaste kiss that Bulma had started while they were on the bed. This was all fire and brimstone. It was heat and desire. It was sinful and passionate. It was everything Bulma never felt with Frieza. It was **red**. The artist had backed her into the rough brick wall and held her there with his body. The pianist shuddered as he dragged his hands slowly up her sides. He seemed interested in the fabric and pulled away from her lips.

"What is this made of, woman?" he asked as he tugged her skirt up slowly. Bulma flinched when she felt his hands come into contact with the skin of her thighs.

"Um..." Bulma's mind tried to focus on the question and not the feel of Vegeta's hands on her skin. "I think it's wool. Or cotton. Fabric." She gasped when Vegeta hoisted her up. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and he carried her towards the bed.

Vegeta dropped her on the bed but Bulma was sitting up in a flash. She sat up and pulled his T-shirt over his head impatiently, tossing it to the floor. She reached behind her and unzipped her skirt. Vegeta pushed her back and pulled it down her legs. Then he began unbuttoning her shirt. Once it was unbuttoned, Vegeta leaned forward and kissed her, pressing his bare chest against hers. Bulma awkwardly moved her arms around to untangle them from the sleeves. Once free, she wrapped her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist.

Vegeta left Bulma's mouth, allowing her to inhale. He trailed kisses down her neck and to her chest. He thanked whatever deities existed that she had a front-clasp bra on. He unsnapped it quickly and flung it open. Bulma inhaled sharply as he flicked his tongue across her right breast while roughly kneaded the left. Bulma arched her back. She toed the waistband of his sweatpants and tried to slide them down his narrow waist.

A sinister chuckle came from Vegeta as he raised his head to look at her. "Impatient woman," he whispered.

"Shut the hell up and lose the pants," she retorted.

* * *

Bulma opened the door to her brownstone. After closing and locking the door, she sighed and faced the empty hall. She distractedly hung her coat up in the closet and made her way to her room. Upstairs, she went inside her boudoir dressing room and closed the door. She contemplated locking the door for a moment but decided against it. If Frieza came looking for her he'd begin asking questions.

 _Frieza_... Bulma sat down at her vanity and looked in the mirror. She'd put her hair back up in a terribly sloppy bun compared to the perfect chignon it had been in. She began taking it down while noticing that her shirt was not buttoned up to her neck like it had been when she'd left. Her lips had been wiped clean of the red lipstick she'd been wearing. Her lips were now pink and slightly swollen. The pianist touched her lips softly as she remembered the bruising kisses she'd engaged in with Vegeta. The rest of her makeup had held up remarkably well. Miraculously, there was not a mark left on her skin from... Bulma shuddered as she thought about it. She brushed her hair back and began cleaning her face off. When she was done, she went back to staring at herself in the mirror.

"What did I do?" she whispered. Shaking her head, she got to her feet and left the room. She went to the bathroom and turned on the shower. When she left the bathroom in her robe and carrying her clothes, she was startled by the man sitting on the bed removing his shoes. "Frieza! What are you doing here?"

Frieza looked up at his fiancée. "I live here. I didn't know I needed a reason to be home," he said with a lazy smile.

Bulma swallowed and headed back to her dressing room. "It's just that it's so early. I didn't expect you until at least seven," she said as she tossed her clothes in her hamper. When she came back to the bedroom, Frieza was unbuttoning his shirt. She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. "So, why are you home so early?"

"I really need a reason to come back to my own home?" he asked with a glance up at her. Bulma shook her head slowly. "Relax. I just thought I'd come home early tonight. I've been working hard for a while now and I just decided to leave early for the day. They won't miss me too much at the firm." He stood and made his way over to her. Bulma allowed him to pull her closer and he planted a kiss on her forehead.

"Okay then. What do you want for dinner?"

"Hm. I was thinking about ordering a few pizzas and calling the guys over."

At this, Bulma would usually be annoyed. Instead, she felt rather relieved. At least she would not have to spend too much time in Frieza's company for the rest of the night and she could gather her thoughts. She nodded silently and mumbled something about putting in the order for him. Frieza left her standing there and went to take his own shower. Bulma hurriedly left the room once he entered the bathroom.

* * *

Vegeta walked up his stoop at the same time a few men walked up Bulma's stoop. They were talking amongst themselves and did not seem to notice him at all. He fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. Before he opened it, he heard the door open beside him. The boisterous men disappeared inside the brownstone and Vegeta shook his head. Before he opened the door to his own home, he saw Frieza heading out towards the mailbox.

As expected, Frieza did notice Vegeta. "We just keep running into each other, but we've never actually spoken, have we?"

The artist faced Frieza. "You call this running into each other?" he asked.

Frieza gathered his mail and walked back up the stoop. The smile he wore was as condescending as they came. He clearly did not like Vegeta and he was sure Vegeta did not like him either. "I do. You should come over some time; have a few brews and watch some sports."

"I'm not a  _sports_  guy. I'll have to decline for now." Vegeta turned and opened the door to his home. Before stepping inside, he turned back to Frieza. "Good night." Without waiting for a response, he slammed the door behind him.


	6. Public Relations

  _She sighed in contentment. Never had she felt such post-coital bliss. It was enough to almost lull her into a deep, satisfied sleep. She had no idea sex could be exhausting. Is that what it was like when you actually enjoyed it? When it wasn't seen as some duty to fulfill? Just as she began to drift off into dreamland, an arm slinked around her waist. Her eyes widened when she was jerked backwards into a solid body._

_"Tired, woman?" asked a husky voice in her ear. She shivered at the heat of his breath on her neck._

_"Maybe. I feel like I ran a marathon," she said. The rogue hand wandered around her body before sliding down her stomach. "I sense that you are not tired."_

_"Not at all. From the feel of it," he chuckled when she gasped at the feeling of his fingers fondling her, "neither are you." He turned her over on her back and slid between her legs. He could see she expected one thing but the smirk on his face promised something different. He lowered himself to her and slid down her body._

_Raising a blue eyebrow, it did not dawn on her what he was about to do until he raised her legs to hook them over his shoulders. The shrill cry she let out next was completely involuntary._

* * *

"So how have you and Vegeta been getting along?" Juu asked as she sat down behind Bulma.

Bulma looked up from the pad where she had been trying to notate. Instead, her pen was just hovering over the blank paper while her mind had been... elsewhere. She had not heard Juu come in at all. She had not even heard the doorbell. "Oh… We're fine. Great, actually. He's not bad company once you get past that mean mug of his," she answered. "Why are you here today?"

Juu shrugged. "I just came to check up on you." She noticed the look Bulma gave her. "And to tell you that there is an event you and Vegeta need to attend in a week."

The pianist nodded and faced her piano again. "I knew it. What is it for and where is it?"

"It's in the West Mountains and it's a convention. The show is going to be announced. Vegeta made a poster for it already. I know the choreographers have started working with the songs you've finished. How far along have you gotten with the rest?"

The pianist sighed. "I've finished all the main songs. Now I'm just working on the coda. When will I need to leave for this convention? I have to tell Frieza." Bulma faced Juu again. She noticed the disapproving look she was giving her. "What?"

"He's not going to want to come, is he?"

"Maybe." Bulma shrugged. "I hope not. He doesn't really like Vegeta and I wouldn't be too far off in guessing Vegeta doesn't like him either."

"Why wouldn't Frieza like our fiery friend? Vegeta is perfectly amicable." Juu snorted at the incredulous look Bulma gave her. "Seriously. Vegeta is really a big teddy bear once you get to know him. He just shows in it a very... Vegeta way."

Bulma nodded. Then she stood up. "Follow me, Juu." She left the room. Confused, Juu got up and followed after Bulma all the way up to her bedroom. When they were inside, Bulma closed the door behind them and took Juu into her closet. She reached up to the shelves on the right and pulled down a big plastic container. It was filled with small cardboard tubes. She took out one and handed it to Juu.

Juu opened the tube and slid out a rolled up piece of paper. She opened it up and saw a lifelike drawing of Bulma playing her piano. She opened a few more tubes to see more drawings of different things; more of Bulma, her hands, streets, rooms, etc. All of them were initialed by Vegeta. "He drew you all of these?" She continued going through them.

Bulma nodded. "Yep. This is mostly what he does when we're working together. While I'm playing, he's drawing these. I adore his drawings. I think they're better than his paintings, actually. I'm starting to run out of room to put them, though. I think I need another box..." Bulma trailed off, thinking about where she could find a bigger box.

Juu sat the tubes back in the box and looked at Bulma. The other woman looked deep in thought. "Just how  _friendly_  are you and Vegeta?" she asked. Bulma snapped her eyes back towards Juu. She shrugged. "Bulma..."

"We're just friends," Bulma replied smoothly. Juu didn't appear to be buying it. "I mean, we've had one or two close moments but nothing to really write home about."

The blonde snorted and crossed her arms. "You fucked him, didn't you?" The look on Bulma's face almost sent her into a fit of laughter. "You did. You totally did."

"Why would you think such a thing?"

"I don't hear you denying it," Juu countered. Bulma opened her mouth to say something but closed it again. Juu smirked. "How was it?"

"I am not entertaining this line of questioning, Juu. I only wanted to show you that Vegeta and I have been getting on marvelously." Bulma snatched back the tubes from Juu and began packing them back away.

"I bet you've been  _getting on_ ," she whispered under her breath. Juu decided to let the fact that Bulma  _still_  had not denied her accusation go for now. "Has Frieza seen any of those?" she asked.

Bulma let out a sardonic chuckle. "If Frieza knew I had those stashed in here he'd probably set them on fire. He'll never find them though. Frieza never comes into my boudoir. Says it's too girly in here." She rolled her eyes as she walked back over to Juu. She sat down on the floor and put her head in Juu's lap. The blonde began stroking her hair. "When do I have to leave?"

"I'll book your a flight in two days. Should I get a ticket for Frieza?" Juu looked down at Bulma. The pianist shook her head. "You're not telling him about it?"

"No. I'll just leave a note about something important coming up. He probably won't even think twice about it."

"As you wish, my lady."

* * *

Vegeta was coming out of the bathroom when his cell started to ring. He took a glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand beside his bed. It was almost 1am. There was only one person who would call him this late.

"What?"

"Rude." It was Krillyn.

"What do you want?"

Krillyn sighed on his end. "It's time to do some promo for the show. There's a convention in the West Mountains in a few days. You and Bulma need to be there. I assume her manager has already told her about it. So that just means you need to..."

"No," Vegeta said sternly. He turned the speakerphone on and dropped the phone on his bed.

"What do you mean  _no_? You just can't say  _no_ ," Krillyn said loudly.

"I'm not going to some frivolous event to appease donors. My involvement began and ended with the paintings. Now that I'm done, I have no more need to be associated with it. I'm not doing some promotional tour for it," Vegeta said. He heard Krillyn sigh on the other end. "I mean it."

Krillyn sighed again. "I'm sure you do. However, if you'd bother to pay attention, you are contractually obligated to do whatever promotional activities they line up," he said.

Vegeta frowned and picked up the phone. "You sneaky little..."

"You should really listen to me more often. I'm pretty sure I told you about it. Anyway, I will be making reservations for your flight and hotel. I'll send you the information later. Make sure you pack something nice to wear to the dinner. Bye." Krillyn hung up before Vegeta could yell at him.

The artist tossed his phone back on his bed. He really had no desire to go to a convention. Krillyn had something about Bulma also going. At least he wouldn't be alone in this torture. Bulma did not seem to like the spotlight that much either. However, in her line of work she was far more used to it. It took 3 years before Vegeta even showed his face as the man behind his work. He'd once been told his appearance was... distracting.

* * *

Frieza walked in the bedroom to see a suitcase thrown open on top of it. A few items of clothing were haphazardly thrown into it. The door to Bulma's closet was open and he could hear her humming. Frieza dropped his jacket on the bed beside the suitcase and walked over to the closet.

Bulma was looking at two different dresses. One was a red and the other was blue. She did not think it would be so hard to choose a cocktail dress for the dinner. It was probably because she'd never really cared what she wore.  _Why do I care now?_  Bulma shook her head and lowered the dresses. She would bring both. She turned around and nearly screamed when she saw Frieza glowering at her.

"Don't do that, Frieza! You nearly gave me a heart attack," she said as she walked past him.

"Going somewhere?" Frieza asked. Bulma nodded while putting the two dresses in a garment bag. "And where would that be?"

Bulma looked over at him. "A conference. The ballet will be announced there. I'm supposed to be there for promotion. I leave in the morning."

"Why such short notice?"

"Juu conveniently forgot to mention it. Now that it's upon us, I just can't back out. It would make me look bad. Besides, I don't want anyone explaining my work but me." She walked over to him and kissed his cheek. "Don't worry. I won't be gone long."

Frieza watched Bulma while she continued to pack, murmuring to herself as she did so. He sat down in an armchair and watched her silently. She was packing a lot of clothes for just a few days.  _Choices_  is how she had explained that away. A thought occurred to Frieza.

"Will our neighbor be joining you?" he asked.

Bulma rolled her eyes as she came out of the closet. "Of course he will, Frieza. It's his work as well. Honestly, you're making way too big a deal about Vegeta. I don't even see him outside of when we're working. Plus, you work with women and I don't give you the third degree about them." She closed the suitcase and looked at Frieza. "Let's go out tonight. To have some fun before I go off for this  _work_  trip."

"Sure," Frieza said with a shrug. He stood and moved towards the bathroom. "I'll get a shower first." He shut the door behind him.

Once she heard the shower running, Bulma let out a sigh of relief. She thought Frieza not liking Vegeta was ridiculous. Although, if he found out what had happened between them his distaste for the artist would be completely justified. That was something Bulma had not thought about. What if Frieza found out she'd cheated?

 _I'll cross that bridge when I need to_ , she thought. She found that she did not feel guilty or regret about her night with Vegeta.  _I don't think it will ever happen again, though. Unless Vegeta spills the beans, then Frieza never has to know. And it's not like he can take the moral high ground on that subject_.

* * *

Later that night, Bulma found herself wishing she had not suggested anything of the sort to Frieza. While she had been thinking of going to a swanky club with a VIP room, Frieza took her to something that was more of a cross between a strip club and a sports bar. And he just had to invite his friends along. Bulma could only pray she had not been seen going in and out of the club. The tabloids would have a field day.

She was helping a drunk Frieza back up their stoop afterwards. He was making it hard for her by constantly snuggling her neck while she tried to unlock the door to her brownstone. When she got the door open, she shoved him inside and sighed. She heard a car door slam behind her and whipped her head around.

Vegeta was walking up his stoop while a cab drove away. Bulma watched the cab for a moment before looking back at Vegeta. He did not seem to have noticed her yet. "Hi!" she said much louder than she intended.

The artist raised his head as he came up the stairs. Bulma was waving over at him. How had he not noticed her? This was the first time he'd seen her since that night. Judging from her attire, he could tell she had come from partying. "Hello," he said in his usual deadpan voice.

Bulma pulled the front door closed and walked to the railing of her stoop. "Did you get the news about the conference?" she asked.

"Of course I did."

"Well, now I don't have to suffer alone. Those things always bore me." She shrugged. "But at least now I have a reason to go to a ski resort."

Vegeta raised an eyebrow. "You have never been to one?" he asked. She shook her head. "Do you plan on doing any skiing?"

Bulma shrugged. "I haven't decided yet. By the way, I'm having another concert in a few weeks. It's nothing really special; no new music. It's just for Christmas."

"You'll be playing Christmas songs?"

"Yeah. I started doing it a few years ago. It's for charity." Bulma heard a loud thumping noise followed by a groan of pain. She sighed. "I'll see you tomorrow. Good night."

Vegeta watched Bulma disappear inside her house. He heard a great deal of grumbling and smirked. Frieza was pathetic for making his fiancée take care of him like that. He was surprised that Bulma had made no mention of what happened between them. He certainly would not be the first to address it.

He would not mind if it happened again, though. Still, he would not initiate it. Shaking his head, Vegeta entered his own home. He had a trip to pack for.

The bellhop opened the door to Bulma's suite at the ski resort. He stepped to the side and allowed Bulma and Juu to enter. Bulma went straight for the king-sized bed while Juu headed for the balcony. Bulma laid back and closed her eyes. The flight had been long and boring but she could not bring herself to sleep on a plane. All she wanted right now was to take a nap.

"I tried to get the presidential suite but  _someone_  had already booked it," Juu said. Bulma opened one eye. The blonde looked irritated by that fact. "Anyway, you have a photoshoot at..."

"A photoshoot? Juu..."

"It's just with the principal dancers and Vegeta. It won't take that long. Be at the valet at noon and I'll take you. After that, you have the rest of the day off until the dinner. By the way, when did you want to fly out?" Juu looked over at Bulma and sighed. The pianist had already nodded off. Rolling her eyes, Juu set the alarm clock and left the room. She could ask about the flight later.

When Juu shut the door to the suite, she heard talking coming from the other end of the hall. She had reservations to make but she was curious to see who had beaten her out to booking the presidential suite. She walked quietly down the hall. The closer she got, the clearer the voices became. She narrowed her eyes when she noticed who it was.

Krillyn was standing in the doorway of the suite. "One more thing, Vegeta. Do you plan on doing any skiing while you're here?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Vegeta walked back in Krillyn's direction. He noticed Bulma's assistant standing not too far behind Krillyn. "What's she doing here?"

Krillyn appeared confused. "Huh?" He turned around and saw the pretty blonde. "Oh! Hi, Juu," he said nervously.

Juu walked forward. "I was wondering who managed to nab this room before I could. Now I know."

"You wanted this room? For Bulma? Is she here? How is she?" Krillyn fired off questions quickly. Juu placed a finger on his lips.

"Yes. Yes. Yes. She's fine. She's in the suite down the hall. Unfortunately she had to settle for the second-best suite."

"I could change the rooms out," Krillyn offered.

Vegeta frowned and smacked him on the back of the head. "You will do no such thing." He looked over at Juu. "Is there something you need?"

The blonde shook her head. "Not at all. I'd tell you to look out for Bulma, but you'll do that anyway. Let's go get some breakfast, short stack." She pulled Krillyn along, leaving Vegeta standing in the doorway.

The artist watched his assistant be dragged down the hall to the elevator by the taller woman. It was almost amusing how much of a blubbering idiot Krillyn became around pretty women but the blonde's presence really amped it up. Vegeta turned his eyes towards the doors at the far end of the hall. He briefly contemplated the notion of going to see Bulma but decided against it almost as quickly. Instead, he turned back inside the suite and shut the door. With a few hours to kill, he might as well take a nap.

* * *

The alarm going off shocked Bulma and caused her to roll clear off the bed. She landed on the carpet floor hard and groaned. The alarm was still blaring. She sat up on her knees and turned it off. The clock read as it being noon. The nap, while refreshing, still left her wanting to sleep. Sighing, she stood up. She had a job to do.

After a quick shower, Bulma put on a pair of leggings and a large sweater. She tied her hair back, grabbed her coat and purse, and headed out the front door of the suite. When she turned the corner to go to the elevator, she saw Vegeta was already there waiting. She stifled the yawn that was threatening to come and cleared her throat.

"Good afternoon, woman," Vegeta said without looking in her direction.

Bulma smirked and walked up to stand beside him. "So I take it you're the reason I'm not in the presidential suite," she said. Vegeta shrugged. "Juu wasn't too happy about that."

"I could tell."

"Oh? Did she come bang on the door until you answered?" Bulma chuckled at the look Vegeta gave her.

"My manager offered to switch rooms..."

"Oh that's so nice of..."

"... without my permission. I was not about to give up my room for you, woman," Vegeta said. Bulma shrugged as the elevator arrived. The two stepped inside and Vegeta pressed the button for the lobby. "I think he's sweet on that blonde woman."

Bulma raised an eyebrow. "Juu? I would have to see that. He's so not her type."

"Type?" Vegeta raised an eyebrow and looked at Bulma. "She has a type?"

The musician nodded. "Big, bulky muscular dumbasses. Preferably with dark hair. She hasn't found a keeper like that yet. But maybe it's time for her to switch it up." Bulma appeared thoughtful.

"And what's your  _type_ , woman?"

The question took Bulma by surprise. She thought for a moment. "I don't really have one. I mean, I'm attracted to a lot of different types. Look who I'm with now and look at..." She stopped talking as soon as she realized she was about to broach the topic of their affair. She chanced a glance in Vegeta's direction. He was still staring straight ahead. Bulma opened her mouth to say more but the elevator arrived on the lobby floor with a loud  _ding_. Vegeta was out of the door before she could say anything. Rolling her eyes, Bulma followed him out.

Juu and Krillyn were waiting for their charges near the doors. They both appeared shocked that the two were approaching them together. Bulma did not miss the sly smirk Juu was giving her. Without many words, all four headed outside to get a ride to the site of the photoshoot.

When they arrived at the site, the foursome was surprised to see a small girl standing near the set and barking orders at the photographer. She was dressed in a peculiar outfit that could only be one of the costumes for the ballet. She had a lot of hair and it was straining to be kept in the style it was in.

"Caulifla, you'll mess up your hair if you keep..."

"Not now, Kale." She turned away from the meek woman standing beside her and back to the photographer. "You said we'd only have to take pictures together. I have been here forever. I'm hungry and sleepy and I want to..."

"We're here," Krillyn said before the dancer could get into the meat of her argument. Everyone turned to face the foursome. "We were told to be here around by about midday. Are we too late?" he asked.

The photographer shook his head fervently. "No, no, no! You're right on time. If you'll go over to the stylists, they will get you ready for the shoot," he said quickly before turning his head back to the dancer.

Bulma watched them as Juu pushed her towards the curtained-off area. "Who was that?" she asked.

"That was Caulifla," Juu replied. Bulma raised an eyebrow. "It's just Caulifla. She's the principal dancer in the Orange Star Company."

"A little abrasive for a ballet dancer, isn't she?"

"Just because she dances  _gentle_  doesn't mean she is as a person," Juu said with a laugh. "Let's get you made up and dressed for this thing. We still have to go to a fitting for your dress tonight."

Bulma frowned as she was shoved in a chair. "What do you mean a fitting? I already have a dress for tonight."

"Now you know designers sent dresses for this event. I don't know why you try to act like you're new to these things, Bulma." Juu walked away from her and started going through the rack of clothing. Bulma sulked back in her chair as the makeup artist took over. She sneaked a peek at Vegeta, who was across from her on the other side. He appeared just as irritated as her. At least she was not alone.

* * *

 

An hour later, Vegeta was leaning against a pole and watching the dancers take action shots. There were three of them: Caulifla, Kale, and a rather small guy named Cabba. By just looking at them one would never guess that this motley trio were the highest ranked dancers in their company. Outside of their poses, they were a raucous bunch. Or, Caulifla was raucous and the other two just went along with her.

"Are they done yet?" Bulma asked quietly. Vegeta turned his head to the left to see her stepping up beside him. Her hair was down with soft waves and she was wearing a dark blue dress with a high slit on the left side. She looked over at him in his plain dress shirt (that probably costs $1000) and black. "Why do you get to dress comfortably?"

Vegeta snorted. "You think I'm comfortable?"

"Well it's a hell of a lot more comfortable than this dress I'm stuffed in. At least I don't have to wear shoes." She lifted the dress to show her bare feet. "It looks like they're finished."

The photographer's assistants were changing out the props for the shoot. He beckoned Bulma and Vegeta forward. Vegeta sighed. "Let's get this over with."

The session went by faster than the two thought it would. Their poses were... interesting. But considering what had transpired between them before, there was not a lot of awkwardness. Standing off to the side, Juu noticed this immediately. When the two were done, she was giving Bulma a knowing smirk as she passed her. Mumbling something about not wanting to hear it, Bulma went to change back into her clothing. She was putting her coat on when she realized she still had to pick out a dress for the dinner.

Vegeta was on his way out when he nearly ran into someone. He took a step back, recognizing his assailant as Cabba. Vegeta surmised he could not have been much older than 21. He also looked strangely nervous.

"Hi! I'm Cabba. I'm a huge fan of your work, Mr. Ouji," he said quickly.

The artist blinked a few times. Given his secluded nature, Vegeta was rarely bombarded by fans. Few even knew what he looked like. So this was a new experience. "Um, thanks." Vegeta stepped around the dancer, but he followed.

"I'm so happy to finally meet you. When I heard we were dancing with your artwork as our backdrops, I was over the moon. Caulifla and Kale weren't as excited as me but they've seen your work. I can tell Kale likes. It's a little bit harder to read Caulifla, though." The young man appeared thoughtful. He talked for the entire duration of Vegeta's walk to the valet.

"Cabba! Stop being a fanboy and come on!" Caulifla yelled.

Cabba sighed. "Well, I've gotta go. I guess I'll see you tonight. Bye!" Cabba ran off before Vegeta could even say anything back.

"Ahem!" Vegeta turned to see Krillyn grinning at him. "Finally experiencing what it's like to have fans. Pretty soon the paparazzi will get ahold of you. What will you do then?" the small man asked.

"String a few up by their innards. It should get my point across."

* * *

"How long do I have to stay at this thing?"

"You complain so much that it's a wonder you've gotten so far."

"I complain because this type of shit is unnecessary."

"The red tape will always be necessary. Let's go. Everyone is waiting for you."

Bulma groaned as the door opened for her and Juu. Her manager led her to her to the side to check their coats. She was not excited about wearing her heels for the next few hours, but duty called. "I'm still mad you chose this dress," Bulma whispered when Juu stepped up beside her.

Juu looked her over. Bulma's dress was hardly anything flashy, just as she asked it not to be. It was a black high-low A-line. Compared to the rest of the dresses that designers had sent, it was relatively bland. "Complaining again. Come on. You only need to make the rounds a few times. Then you can sit and sulk with Vegeta all you want."

"Why do you keep mentioning Vegeta?" Bulma asked. Juu nodded ahead of them. Bulma followed her gaze.

Walking in their direction was Vegeta. He was wearing a maroon suit and black shirt. He had foregone the jacket and just had on a vest. His shirt was unbuttoned at the neck. Having only really seen Vegeta in casual clothes before today, Bulma was momentarily struck dumb. She blinked a few times and looked up into his face.

"Well don't you clean up nicely," Juu said. Vegeta shot her a glare before looking back at Bulma. Juu looked back at Bulma and winked before disappearing into the crowd.

Bulma cursed inwardly and smiled at Vegeta. "Juu is right. You do look nice. Very suave. That color does you justice. No jacket?"

Vegeta shook his head. "It impedes my range of motion."

"Planning on getting into any fights?"

"Not if I can help it." Vegeta's mischievous smirk disappeared when a flash went off near them. They turned to see the press had found them. Bulma could tell he was not going to field many questions, so she took him by the arm and put on her best smile. It was time to play nice.

* * *

Elsewhere, Frieza was flipping through the channels. His friends were with him and as usual, they were drinking. Bulma had only been gone a day and he was bored. It was not that he really missed her. He just did not like _not_ knowing what she was doing. Especially since she was with that  _Vegeta_. The distaste he held for the man was probably irrational, but he could not help it. The artist just rubbed him the wrong way.

"Hey go back, Frieza!" Dodoria yelled, bringing Frieza out of his reverie. He turned a few channels back until Dodoria told him to stop. "Isn't that your girl?"

Frieza stared at the TV. It was some paparazzi show that was on. It was showing the event live. Bulma was fielding questions from one of the reporters. Vegeta stood beside her, looking disinterested with the situation. Frieza noticed that their arms were linked.

"Isn't that your neighbor? She looks  _mighty_  comfortable with him," Zarbon joked.

"Shut up. There's nothing going on between them," Frieza said, taking a drink from his beer.

Dodoria chuckled. "Yeah. Because  _friends_  look at each other like  _that_. She looks ready to jump him."

Frieza tuned his friends out. Bulma did look happy, but she was talking about her music. She always looked happy when she explained her musical ideas. After all, music made her happy. Vegeta hardly looked interested in her either. Shaking off his concerns, he turned the channel.

* * *

Vegeta was nearing his limit. A natural introvert, people exhausted him. He'd been prodded for conversation by nearly everyone there and it was getting tiresome to even feign interest. He glanced to the pianist next to him. She was talking with some fashion designer whose name escaped him. By her tone, he could tell she was also getting tired. He checked his watch. It was a little past midnight.

Bulma bid the designer good night. Her smile dropped as soon as the woman could no longer see her. She faced forward at the table. Juu had long ago abandoned her while telling her to stay at least until midnight. She looked over at Vegeta. "What time is it?" she asked.

"Fifteen after. Why?" Vegeta replied. The pianist let out a relieved sigh and got to her feet. "Where are you going?"

"Juu said I only had to play nice until midnight. I'm going to tell the donors good night and get the hell out of here." Bulma polished off her champagne. "Coming?" she asked with a smile. Vegeta stood along with her and they moved towards the front of the room.

Back at their hotel, Bulma took off her shoes while they walked into the lobby. Vegeta looked at her, but said nothing. Bulma also removed her coat and took a few pins out of her hair, allowing the blue tresses to fall forward and frame her face. She shook it out as they stopped in front of the elevator.

"Are you going to take your dress off as well?" Vegeta asked.

Bulma snapped her head around to look at him. She was about to admonish him when she saw the small smirk on his face. He was joking with her. "Hmph. You have no idea how long I've been wanting to take off those shoes. The pins were hurting as well. Beauty is a cruel mistress," she answered.

"I'm sure," Vegeta said.

"What about you? You didn't even bother to wear your jacket."

"I prefer to be comfortable and therefore practical." He allowed Bulma to enter the elevator first.

The two rode upstairs in silence. Bulma looked at Vegeta every so often in the mirrored doors. She had caught herself staring at him a lot that night. He was just so effortless in his attractiveness. She huffed and tried to get the naughty thoughts out of her mind.

"What are you sighing about, woman?"

Bulma looked back at him in the mirror. He was looking at her too. They faced one another. "I was just thinking about how nice this night was. I'm almost sad it's over."

Vegeta snorted. "Bullshit. You had a horrible time."

"It wasn't all bad," she said. "My grouper wasn't bad. There were no lecherous old men staring at me. I also got to sit next to the most handsome man there." Bulma fiddled with the buttons on his open vest.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, woman."

"Someone has a high opinion of themselves. What makes you think I was talking about you?" Bulma smiled and looked up at him. He was a lot closer than she originally thought. It did not matter, though. She did not have far to reach in order to kiss him.

Vegeta was pleasantly surprised by her forwardness. He slipped a hand around her waist and pulled her small body into him. Bulma dropped her shoes and coat, placing her hands on his shoulders. She dragged them down to his chest. She could not help but to think that he had far too many clothes on. On the other hand, Vegeta was contemplating pushing the emergency stop and taking her against the wall. He deepened the kiss, biting her lip and pressing her against the wall. Bulma's hands found themselves in his hair, pulling him down into her.

Unfortunately, the loud  _DING_  of the elevator brought them out of their trance. Bulma gasped and stepped away from him. Out of breath, she stared at Vegeta. She was unsure of what her next move would be. Thinking it better to just go back to her room, she gathered her things off the floor. Vegeta smoothed his shirt out and watched her shuffle out of the elevator. They stopped walking at the split in the hallway.

"We can finish our conversation later," Vegeta said before turning to walk towards his room.

Bulma watched him go in silence. She seemed to always be left a bumbling mess whenever it came to Vegeta. She shook her head and walked in the opposite direction.  _I need a shower._

* * *

When Vegeta got to his suite, he looked at himself in the mirror. Bulma's bold red lipstick was smeared against his face. She was a very fierce kisser. He chuckled darkly and walked towards the bar of the suite. He had given her an invitation. It was up to her if she would take it. Until then, he needed a drink and a shower. A very stiff drink and a very cold shower.

* * *

Bulma came out of the bathroom about an hour later. She dug through her open suitcase and found her white flannel pajamas pants. She pulled a matching button-up shirt on and went back to the bathroom. There she brushed and braided her hair. After brushing her teeth and washing her face, she went back to the bedroom and climbed on the large bed. Bulma did not know how long she sat there, staring blankly at the TV. She came across a paparazzi show that was showing her interview at the dinner. She smiled, thinking about how cute they looked standing together. The pianist glanced over at the clock on her nightstand. It was almost 2am. She picked up the remote and turned the TV off. In the silence, her mind cleared. She got off the bed and pulled on some socks. Pausing only to pick up her room key, Bulma left the room.

The walk down the hall to the presidential suite was shorter than she thought it would be. Bulma had no time to reconsider her decision. Soon she was standing at the door. Taking a deep breath, she rang the doorbell.

 _Maybe he's already asleep_ , she worried. Bulma was about to turn around when the door opened, revealing Vegeta. He was wearing a white tank top with a pair of black sweatpants.

"Nice flannel," Vegeta said, looking her over once. Bulma crossed her arms over her chest and shrugged. He stared at her with a blank face for a moment. Then he stepped to the side. Bulma took the silent invitation and went inside.

The presidential suite was much larger than Bulma's suite; given hers was the second-best in the hotel. She walked into the living area, barely hearing Vegeta shut and lock the door behind him. He had the fireplace going and the lights dimmed. Bulma spotted a lowball glass filled with ice sitting on the coffee table. She heard the clinking of glass behind her and turned around. Vegeta was carrying a bottle of brandy.

"Your room is so much bigger than mine," she said with a small smile.

Vegeta stopped right in front of her. "Of course it is. It's the presidential suite," he said. Bulma looked away from him. "Relax, woman. Do you want a drink?"

"I think I had more than enough at dinner," she said. She turned and watched him fill his glass. In one quick motion, he drank it all like it was water. He seemed completely unaffected by it. If Bulma had downed brandy like that, she would've been coughing and trying not to vomit it back up. "That stuff is way too strong for me."

"Weak woman," Vegeta said. He looked over at her, a rare smirk gracing his face. Bulma felt a shiver run through her. Vegeta walked over to her. "Why'd you come see me?"

Bulma raised an eyebrow. "I thought we'd continue our scintillating conversation from earlier," she replied. She took a step back as he continued to approach.

" _Scintillating conversation_ , you say? Then why are you running from me?" He backed her up into an ottoman. Bulma stumbled and ended up sitting on top of it. Vegeta smirked and pulled her back to her feet. She let out a gasp as their chests met. "Where did we leave off?" he whispered.

Bulma could smell the liquor on his breath. Somehow it didn't sicken her the way it did when she could smell it on Frieza. His lips were so close to hers that any move would have them kissing. What had he asked her? Something about a conversation. They had not been conversing in the first place. They had been...

The artist smirked inwardly when the pianist moved forward that little bit and pressed her lips against his. Vegeta responded in kind. Bulma wrapped her arms around his neck and he picked her up. Vegeta carried her to his bedroom and let her down on the king-sized bed. Bulma reluctantly released him and looked up. He just stood in front of her, still smirking. Bulma scooted forward and reached up. She slid the tank top up his chest and over his shoulders. Vegeta raised his arms to accommodate her and let it fall to the floor. Vegeta stepped forward, causing her to back up on the bed. He crawled forward and on top of her as she laid back.

He wanted to take his time with the skittish woman. Their first time had been a frenzied tryst fueled by weeks of sexual tension between them. Now, it seemed that they had all night to do as they pleased. Vegeta planned on taking his time.

While the artist was in his thoughts, Bulma’s eyes left his face and traveled down to his chest. Maybe her memory was fuzzy but the last time they were together she could not remember him being so... defined. She could recall that he was in good shape but it was nothing like the sinewy body that was before her. Bulma reached up and ran her hands from his corded neck to tight pectorals. Vegeta did not stop her, instead choosing to watch her while she satisfied her curiosity. She softly dragged her nails down his defined, tight abs until she reached the top of his sweats. She toyed with the drawstring and then looked back up at him.

“In a hurry?” Vegeta asked. Bulma shrugged and he lowered himself to kiss her. She moaned into the kiss just as he ended it. His lips left hers and traveled down to her chin and neck.

Bulma shivered when she felt him chuckle against her neck. “What’s so funny?”

“I truly cannot believe you’re wearing flannel pajamas,” he said. He moved down and slowly began unbuttoning the large shirt. With each button, he leaned down and kissed her skin.

“Well they may not be a sexy negligee but they’re comfy. Asshole,” she uttered. Bulma had no idea what to do with her hands. She settled on gripping the sheets and watched has he made his way up. Soon Vegeta was unbuttoning the top button. The shirt fell open, revealing Bulma’s breasts, nipples hard and waiting to be tended to. Vegeta’s mouth latched onto the left while he kneaded the right, pinching the erect nipple. Bulma arched her back into him. He switched breasts and Bulma finally tangled her hands in his hair.

"I don't mind the pajamas, woman. They're authentically you. I'd think it strange had you come to me in a negligee," he said, his breath tickling her warm skin. One of Vegeta’s hands slipped down her bared torso and fiddled with the drawstring of her pajamas. Once it was loose, his hand slinked beneath them. Bulma yelped as he began to play with her clit. She writhed against him, shifting her position beneath him. He removed his hand and Bulma sighed. She opened her eyes and watched him sit up. He grabbed her pants and pulled them off. Bulma was left in only her open shirt.

Bulma watched with wide eyes while he put her legs on his shoulders and leaned down towards her center. “Vegeta, what are you doing?” she whispered nervously.

The artist kissed the inside of her thighs. “What does it look like?”

“It looks like... Oh my god...” Bulma grabbed the sides of the pillow she was on and moaned. Vegeta’s tongue and fingers worked all kinds of magic on her. Bulma’s hands left the pillow and buried themselves in Vegeta’s hair. Vegeta gripped her hips to keep her still. Unable to do anything else, Bulma arched her back. “Vegeta...” she groaned as she felt his tongue slip into her center.

Mere minutes later, Bulma was moaning out her orgasm. Vegeta sat up and crawled up her body. He kissed her hard and Bulma could taste herself on his tongue. She wrapped her legs around his waist and squeezed. His erection pressed against her center and she grinded her hips against him. Vegeta left her mouth and trailed kisses down her neck.

“How easy you are to please. I take it you don't experience that too often,” he said.

“No,” Bulma whispered breathlessly. It was the second time Vegeta had done it and therefore the second time she'd had it done to her. Bulma toed his sweatpants, impatient for him to continue. She felt him chuckle against her neck. “You enjoy teasing me?”

Vegeta reached down between them and pushed his pants down. Bulma finished the job and he kicked them off. She paused for a moment, looking at him. It dawned on her that this was her first real time seeing him. Looking at Vegeta, one would never think he was packing _THAT_. He was of above average length but the girth...

“Like what you see, woman?” Vegeta’s voice broke through her lascivious thoughts. Bulma looked up at his face. “You were staring.”

“I... I was not!” Bulma flinched when she felt his tip rubbing up and down her wet center. Vegeta pushed the tip in but did nothing else. “Vegeta, don’t tease...”

Vegeta leaned forward on top of her. “Then tell me what you want, woman,” he whispered against her lips. He pushed in slowly about halfway before slowly pulling back out and pausing. Bulma whined beneath him and wiggled. “Tell me.”

“Please,” Bulma whispered. Vegeta thrust into her and she inhaled sharply. He pulled out quickly and paused again. “Vegeta, please...”

“What do you want?”

“You. Please, Vegeta. I want you,” Bulma answered weakly. She pulled him down into a kiss. Vegeta thrust inside of her and started a hard but steady pace. He lifted her left leg and changed his angle. Bulma broke the kiss and let out a long moan. She closed her eyes and took hold of his shoulders. “Faster,” she breathed.

Vegeta was more than willing to oblige. He picked up the pace and watched Bulma lose it beneath him. “Look at me, Bulma,” he said. Bulma opened her eyes. She reached up and gripped his shoulders. Her chest heaves and she bit her lip to stifle her noises. Vegeta shook his head. He buried his head in the crook of her neck. “Let me hear you.” He accentuated each syllable with a hard thrust, causing Bulma to gasp each time.

Bulma chuckled in his ear. “Make me,” she said. Before she knew what happened, Vegeta had gotten up and put her legs up while he sat on his knees. Confused for a moment, Bulma could not hold back her cries as he started to hammer into her. Seconds later, her second orgasm crashed into her. Vegeta felt her tighten around him and her legs shook. He pulled out and flipped her on her stomach. Vegeta gripped her hips and practically pulled her back on him. He sped up, racing towards his own ending. Bulma came for a third time and it was enough to send him over the edge. He rode out his orgasm and collapsed on top of her.

* * *

 Bulma did not realize she had fallen asleep until she was opening her eyes to the feeling of a hand running down her body. She was laying on her side, curled into Vegeta’s solid body behind her. He was running his hand up and down her side while kissing her shoulder. Bulma tried to turn over but he held her in place. He pulled her back until she was flush against him. She could feel his erection pressed against her.

Vegeta slipped his finger between her legs while kissing her neck. Bulma groaned at the sensations he induced in her. She was close to cumming again when he suddenly released her. Her eyes opened, confused by the sudden loss of contact.

“Ride me,” Vegeta said in her ear. The pianist sat up to see him rolling over on his back. With more eagerness than Vegeta thought she would have, Bulma straddled him, looking at his proudly erect cock. Vegeta found her fixation with it amusing. She took hold of it and slowly stroked it a few times. Vegeta raised an eyebrow as she brought her lips closer.

Bulma’s eyes met his as she slowly licked the underside of it. She inwardly smirked at the look on his face. _Score 1 for Bulma_ , she thought happily. When she reached the tip, she closed her lips around the tip. Vegeta gripped the sheets to keep from touching her. Bulma was sort of thankful for that. She had no experience with this sort of thing and was just winging it. She slowly put more and more of it in her mouth. She was about halfway down before deciding she could do no more. She came up slowly and went back down. She bobbed her head a few times before coming completely off. Then she tried again.

The last thing Vegeta had expected her to do was give him head. Even though he could tell she was inexperienced, she picked it up what he liked rather quickly if her slowly and lightly dragging her teeth was anything to go by. When she came off of him, he opened his eyes again and saw her positioning herself over him. She slowly sank down on him until she was completely down.

This angle was certainly different for Bulma. She leaned forward on her hands and lifted herself up. She went back down and did the same again. Vegeta rose his hips to meet hers but she lowered herself hard and shook her head. She refused to move until he relaxed.

“Who’s the one being a tease now?” Vegeta growled.

“It’s my turn now. You just lay back and take it,” Bulma said with a mischievous grin. She slowly began to rock her hips forward, contracting every time she came up. It dawned on Bulma that she was still wearing the flannel pajama shirt. No wonder she was so hot. She sat up, never breaking her rhythm, and slid the shirt off her arms.

Vegeta watched her move on top of him, peaking breasts bouncing, panting and biting her lip to stay quiet. It wasn’t working because she would groan every now and then. She allowed him to take hold of her hips to help her stay steady. Even though she was in charge, he knew she would cum first. Smirking, he raised his knees and thrust his hips up.

Bulma let out an strange noise that was a cross between a scream and a gasp. She fell forward and still pushed back while Vegeta’s hips slammed into her repeatedly. He squeezed her hips, holding her in place. The new angle had him hitting her secret spot and her cries and chanting grew louder and louder. Seconds later, she yelled his name as she came. Vegeta kept going a few seconds more before grunting out his own orgasm.

Vegeta looked down at Bulma. He pulled her up and he slipped out of her. She moaned at the feeling but allowed him to hold her. She turned her head and looked at him. Without a word, she leaned forward and kissed him. It was a slow, sensual kiss that held feelings neither of them knew they had for each other yet. Once it was done Vegeta maneuvered Bulma around until he was holding her bridal style.

“Vegeta! What are you...”

“I don’t intend to sleep with your juices slathered all on me,” he said. He got to the edge of the bed and stood, still holding her. Bulma giggled as he carried her to the bathroom. She had to agree that cleanup was indeed a good idea.


	7. Mistletoe

Bulma found herself sneaking out of Vegeta's suite the next morning. She prayed that Juu was not waiting for her in her room. She would never hear the end of it. She also did not want to face her friend just yet. Vegeta had so kindly left evidence all over her body and it would be hell trying to explain the dark marks away. Who knew Vegeta was a sucker?

 _Oh he likes sucking very much_ , Bulma thought with a dark chuckle.

"I haven't seen you do the hallowed Walk of Shame since you were just starting out in college." The pianist cursed under her breath and stopped. Standing in the adjacent hallway to the elevators was Juu and Krillyn. Krillyn looked nonplussed while Juu looked completely unimpressed. It was the blonde who had spoken. She looked Bulma over. "You could've at least put your pants back on."

Bulma grinned. "Good morning to you, Juu and Krillyn. Krillyn, Vegeta is still asleep. Tread carefully. Let's go, Juu." She grabbed Juu's hand and dragged her down the hall.

Krillyn stood there, still absolutely confused about what he had just witnessed. He decided it was conversation he'd rather not have with Vegeta.  _I'll just make him some coffee and act like I saw nothing_.

Juu took a seat on the large couch in front of the fireplace in Bulma's suite. The pianist was in the kitchen of the suite, searching for something to make coffee with. Juu watched her with an amused smirk. Once Bulma had the coffee on, she came over to the living area and sat to the left of Juu. "Well..."

"I don't want to hear it," Bulma said.

"I was only going to tell you that you  _still_  don't have any pants on," Juu said. Bulma rolled her eyes and looked away. They sat in silence until the coffee was done. Bulma went back to the kitchen and retrieved two cups for them. The silence stretched as they sipped the fresh brew.

Predictably, it was Bulma who snapped.

"You aren't going to say anything?" she whined.

Juu blinked a few times. "What do you want me to say?"

"You're not surprised?"

"Why would I be surprised? I figured you two were gonna fuck sooner or later," Juu said with a shrug. She put her coffee down. "Is he any good?"

"Juu!"

"What? I'm curious. Vegeta looks like he knows his way around a woman's body."

Bulma sighed. "Does he ever..."

Juu raised an eyebrow at Bulma's words. "That good, eh?"

"Oh yeah." Bulma sunk back into the pillows on the sighed wistfully.

Juu cleared her throat. "You know I hate to be the bearer of bad news but... You do know that's cheating, right?" She saw Bulma cover her face with her hands and groan. "Bulma, it's obvious your heart, or at least your libido, lies elsewhere so why are you still even going on with this engagement?"

"I don't want to have  _that_  conversation right now, Juu."

"Well, I think you should. I don't give a damn about Frieza, but I do like Vegeta and I don't think he should be relegated to  _the other man_  status. Prick though he may be, Vegeta deserves better than that." Juu heard Bulma groan again. "I'm just saying. Either him or the purple people eater. You can't hog all the good dick." She smirked when she got a laugh out of Bulma.

Bulma sat up and picked her coffee back up. She took a sip and looked out the large windows. It was snowing outside. "I know. I shouldn't have even given in to temptation in the first place. I lied to you the first time you asked about us. In fact, the night before was the first time we did it. Frieza is going to kill me when he finds out."

Juu watched the warring emotions flit across Bulma's face as the pianist retreated into the darkness of her mind. Having Bulma go into one of her dark depressions would not do. "I think you should go down to the town. Get some shopping done. Maybe with a certain spiky-haired artist."

Bulma opened her eyes and glared at Juu. "Do you really think it's smart for me to be seen in public with him? I'm sure we'll be all over gossip sites and tabloids in a few days because of the conference. I think Frieza already suspects something between us." She covered her head with a pillow. "This is such a mess."

* * *

Vegeta's eyes opened as the smell of coffee wafted into his nose. He blinked a few times. The previous night's activities flooded his mind and he turned over. The blue-haired minx was gone. How did she get past him without waking him up? He must have tired himself out more than he thought.  _Great sex will do that to you_ , he mused.

Krillyn looked up from the newspaper when he heard the doors to the suite's bedroom open. Vegeta sauntered through in just a pair of sweatpants. The artist grunted a greeting and kept on his way towards the kitchen. Krillyn looked down at the coffee table. There was a folded piece of paper with Vegeta's name written on it. The artist came back to the living area and sat down in an armchair. Krillyn cleared his throat.

Vegeta looked over at Krillyn. The shorter man was looking at the coffee table. Vegeta followed his gaze and saw the piece of paper with his name written on it. He immediately reached forward and took it. He unfolded it and squinted at the handwriting. Clearly she had been in a rush when she wrote it.

Krillyn watched Vegeta discreetly as he read the note. The other man folded the paper back up and tossed it on the table. "From an admirer?" he asked snidely.

The artist glared in Krillyn's direction. He simply shrugged and turned his attention back to his coffee. It had merely been a note from Bulma telling him that she wanted to make it back to her suite before her assistant got there. She'd also invited him to dinner later that night. Vegeta eyed Krillyn over the top of his mug. The shorter man had gone back to reading the newspaper.

"Have you decided what you want to do today? You do recall one of the dancers asked about you and Bulma spending time on the slopes with them. Should I make arrangements for ski gear?"

"Skiing? They're dancers. Is it wise for them to put their bodies at risk like that?" Vegeta asked. Krillyn shrugged. "I suppose. The landscape might inspire me."

Krillyn nodded and sat the newspaper down. "I will make the arrangements."

Vegeta grunted and allowed his mind to drift. Predictably, it drifted back to Bulma. He was becoming quite invested in the woman. He could admit that he liked her; probably more than he should. She was in a relationship, though. Infidelity was not his thing and he would most definitely not stand for being Bulma's  _dirty little secret_. It was foolish of him to have invited her back into his bed. But, he'd given her the choice to reject him. However, he would be lying to himself if he said he was not happy she took him up on his offer.

Krillyn clearing his throat brought Vegeta out of his thoughts. "They're looking to hit the slopes at about one. It's ten now, so I think you should get ready. I'll go procure some ski gear for you." He rose from his seat and left the room, leaving Vegeta alone with his coffee.

And his thoughts.

* * *

"Those dancers invited you to ski with them. Will you take them up on the offer?" Juu called to Bulma. The blonde lounged on Bulma's bed while the pianist went through her morning routine in the en suite bathroom. "Cabba sounded really hopeful that you and Vegeta go with them."

Bulma walked out of the bathroom with her toothbrush sticking out of her mouth. She leaned against the doorframe. "Shouldn't they be preserving their bodies? I'd hate to see one of them get hurt."

"Then don't put that energy out there." Juu pulled out her phone. "Well? Want to hang with the cool kids for a few hours? Maybe it'll take your mind off of lustful thoughts of Vegeta." She smirked when she saw Bulma roll her eyes. "Who am I kidding? You probably invited him to dinner tonight." When she got no response to that, Juu looked up from scrolling her phone. She sighed at the guilty expression Bulma wore.

The pianist turned on her heel to go back in the bathroom. "It's just dinner," she mumbled through brushing her teeth.

"And what if you are seen? The gossip blogs and shows will have a blast with it. I can see the speculation now. Have you forgotten that your engagement has been made public? How is it going to look if you're out with the hottest artist?"

Bulma sighed and stomped out of the bathroom. "Do you think I'm stupid? I planned on just eating in the suite. Just a quiet night before we have to go back to the city. Is that so bad?"

Juu crossed her arms. "And I bet you just went over for a drink last night," she said.

"For your information," Bulma pulled a red sweater over her head, "Vegeta invited me over to talk."

"Since when does  _talking_  lead to  _fucking_?"

"Could you stop referring to it like that? It makes it sound so... dirty." Bulma climbed on the bed and relaxed against the headboard along with Juu. "When should we go down to the slopes?"

"Those kids want to be out there around one. Let's go get some breakfast. I'm actually starving." Juu swung her legs over the edge of the bed and got to her feet. She turned the TV off and looked behind her at Bulma. "Well? Let's go."

"But I just got comfortable!"

* * *

There were not too many people on the slopes when Vegeta arrived. It was easy for him to spot the three dancers. They were all bundled up and holding their skis. Sighing, Vegeta began to trudge over to them. He slowed his pace when he heard a familiar voice calling his name. A voice that had been sighing it out in pleasure earlier that morning. To his left, Bulma was walking as fast as her ski boots would allow her. She was just as wrapped up as he was.

"These clothes are not fun to move in. Have you seen the other three?" she asked, glancing around them. She spotted them standing in line for a lift. "Hey!" she yelled, waving her arm. The dancers looked in their direction and motioned for them to come along. Bulma grabbed Vegeta's hand with her free hand and dragged him towards the group.

Cabba was first to greet them. "Thanks for coming, guys! Caulifla didn't think you'd come. We were trying to wait before we took a lift up to the top of the slope. Have you ever been skiing before?"

Bulma shook her head as the lift opened. "I've done snowboarding. I was terrible at it, though. I'm not very good at many sports," she said as she sat down next to Kale. "Hello."

Kale looked shyly at Bulma and nodded. "Hello, Miss Briefs. I haven't been skiing either."

"Yeah. This was all Cabba's idea. I have no idea why, though," Caulifla said from Kale's other side.

Cabba and Vegeta sat across from them. The gate to the lift shut and they began moving. Bulma engaged in conversation with the girls while Vegeta more or less just listened to Cabba. The younger of the two did not seem to mind Vegeta's silence. He could tell he was paying attention. Bulma occasionally stole a glance over at Vegeta. His expression was unreadable. He looked neither happy nor sad. If Bulma had to describe what he looked like, she would probably say  _pensive_. That was a good way to describe it.

 _Today will be interesting_ , she mused.

* * *

Vegeta decided against going to his brownstone the next day and instead went to his studio. Depending on who you asked, the dinner Bulma had planned for them had either gone as expected or taken a left turn somewhere during the second course. He had woken up the next morning with her on top of him in her bed. Not exactly a bad position, but Vegeta had not planned on the night swinging in that direction.

Clearly, neither had Bulma. She had been so flustered by waking up in that position that she'd nearly fallen out of the bed. They did not say much before they went their separate ways. Bulma reminded him of the Christmas show she was having and that she would send him tickets. He had not exactly agreed to attending. But he also gave no indication that he was thinking of foregoing it.

Vegeta tossed his luggage across the floor once the gate to the elevator opened. Peeling off his coat, he immediately headed towards the upstairs "bedroom." He paused when he saw the state of the bed. The last time he had slept here was when he had Bulma for the first time.  _Perhaps I should have gone home instead_ , he thought morosely. Despite his better judgment, Vegeta walked over to the bed and fell into it. He rolled over and stared up at the ceiling.

Life was getting complicated.

* * *

Bulma trudged into her own home. She did not expect anyone to be home. She was proven correct when she found the place deserted. She made her way up to her bedroom and put her luggage in her closet. She could unpack later. Now, she had to force herself to work. She went back downstairs and into the white room where her piano resided.

The one thing she did like about her Christmas shows is that she rearranged the songs every year. While they retained their general composition, Bulma always put a different twist on them. She saw her notation pad sitting on top of the piano and took a seat. The other reason she needed to force herself to work was to get Vegeta off her mind.

 _Far easier said than done_ , she thought with a long sigh.

Though she was not mad about how the dinner had ended, she certainly had not planned on it ending the way it did. She had only wanted to talk to Vegeta. But the temptation was just too great. She knew better, but she was drawn to him. Sharing the same space with him and not thinking of ways to undress him was becoming pretty hard. She shook her head to clear her mind once again. She had work to do.

* * *

It was hard to tell who was avoiding who. Bulma knew Vegeta was coming to his brownstone. She often heard him opening and shutting his front door while she worked. She had to resist the urge just to look out the window. One thing she had noticed was the lack of drawings. Vegeta had not left a single one in her mailbox since the trip. On one hand, Bulma was a bit disappointed that he had pulled away from her. His drawings had made her feel special. But on the other hand, she knew it was probably for the best.

 _Besides, Frieza has been surprisingly wonderful these last few weeks_. Bulma snorted.  _Or as wonderful as Frieza can get_. He certainly seemed more attentive to her and he kept her busy.

Bulma hit a sour note as the sound of her phone ringing pulled her from her reverie. She glanced over at it and saw it was Juu calling. She put it on speakerphone and started writing on her pad. "Hello, Juu. What is it?"

"Have you forgotten that you have a cake tasting in thirty minutes?" The blonde sounded a bit miffed. When Bulma did not answer right away, she sighed. "Should I reschedule? I can if you're busy with your music."

"No! No! I'll be there." Bulma ended the call and stood up. She had forgotten all about the cake tasting. In fact, she had forgotten about the wedding completely. It was set for the first day of May. How had she allowed it to completely slip her mind?

Vegeta's eyes snapped to the side when he heard the door to Bulma's brownstone opening. He paused when he saw her step out. She glanced up and saw him as well. The two stared at one another in silence. It had been weeks since they had last spoken. She appeared surprised to see him. Vegeta would not say that he was avoiding her. He just had not made it a priority to see her.

Finally, she broke the silence. "Hi, stranger. Long time, no see." She gave him a small smile. He nodded his greeting. "Um, did you get the tickets? I gave you an extra one just in case you wanted to bring a guest."

"I did."

"There's also a party afterwards. The place is written on the tickets." The honking of a horn startled Bulma. She turned around to lock the door and faced him again. "My ride is here. I'll see you soon."

Vegeta watched her hurry down the stoop to the waiting taxi. She turned and gave him a final wave before disappearing into the taxi. Vegeta watched the taxi until he could see it no more. He let out a long sigh and thought about the tickets. He thought about who he could bring to the concert. If anything, he would bring someone just to keep his mind off of her. That would be an exercise in futility. When Bulma played the piano was when she was at her most beautiful.

The artist finished making his way into his brownstone. Once inside, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. Once he found the one he was looking for, he dialed the number of the one person that could offer him decent companionship for that upcoming night.

* * *

After deciding that a pink champagne cake would be perfect for the bridal cake (and that Irish Crème for the groom's cake would certainly make Frieza happy), Bulma and Juu headed over to the concert hall to assess the decorations. The hall was decorated quite festively with tinsel and lights. Bulma raised an eyebrow when she saw the grand piano she would be using.

"A  _red_  piano, Juu?" She looked at her assistant. Juu just shrugged. "What am I to do with that eyesore?"

"Play it, obviously. Besides, I think it'll go marvelously with the dress you'll be wearing. I know how much you loathe picking out your own clothes, so I took the liberty of choosing for you." She brought up a picture on her phone and handed it to Bulma. "Well?"

Bulma stared at the screen for a moment. It was a relatively simple long-sleeved dark green dress with a plunging neckline. She shrugged. "It's fine," she said as she handed the phone back to Juu. She sighed and looked back up at the stage. Then she walked up to the stage.

Juu watched Bulma go up to the piano and take a seat. The pianist gave the ivory keys a few taps and frowned. It was horribly out of tune. Glaring up at Juu, the blonde woman nodded and started typing on her phone. Despite it being out of tune, Bulma started playing on it, trying to get a feel for the keys. It would be going up for sale in a charity auction after the concert, so she only had to play it once.

"So," Juu walked up behind Bulma, "have you talked to Vegeta since the trip?" she asked. Bulma stopped playing and looked at her. "What?"

"As a matter of fact, today was the first time we've spoken since the trip. We crossed paths when I was leaving to go to the bakery."

The blonde appeared confused. "You two haven't talked in all that time? Why not?"

"We haven't communicated at all, actually. He even stopped sending me drawings." Bulma closed the piano. "Isn't that good? We shouldn't be carrying on an affair in the first place."

"It's... fine, I guess. I just didn't expect you two to stop speaking altogether. You couldn't remain friends?"

Bulma choked out a laugh. "Trust me. It's better that we just don't see each other at all."

"If you say so..."

* * *

It was snowing the night of the concert. Vegeta had been forced to wear a coat. Not even he could withstand the biting cold. His  _date_  kicked up enough fuss about it as they sat in the taxi. Vegeta hardly listened to her and he was sure she knew he was not listening. She knew him well enough to know when he tuned her out.

"Well, I am happy you invited me. I just wish this thing wasn't formal. They don't make practical formalwear," she said with a laugh.

Vegeta looked over at her. "Did you not dress for the weather beneath that thing?"

"I have on the  _warmest_  formal dress I own, Vegeta. That doesn't mean it's particularly warm. I even wore hose with it." She crossed her arms. Vegeta looked her over. The big coat she wore seemed like it should have been keeping her warm. Perhaps it was not lined. Mentally shrugging, he looked back out the window. "I think I might stay at one of these hotels tonight," she said suddenly.

"Why?"

"By the time this is all over, the streets will be far too dangerous to drive on at night. It's best to just wait til morning." She glanced up at him. "Want to stay with me?" She bat her lashes at him. Vegeta rolled his eyes and she playfully punched him in the arm. She looked back out the car window. "I hope that party has an open bar..."

* * *

 

"I cannot believe you talked me into leaving Gohan with your hoodlum brother. He's probably called over his hoodlum friends and is doing all kinds of bad stuff around Gohan," Chichi grumbled. She shot Goku a cold glare.

Goku laughed nervously. "Raditz knows not to bring anyone dangerous around, Gohan. It's just for the night. We'll see him in the morning."

Chichi shook her head. "One whole night without my baby. One night and Raditz could burn the house down," she bemoaned. She pulled out her phone and checked for messages. "We should've just called a babysitter. One who actually knows how to take care of children."

"Aw, Chichi. I'm telling you that Raditz has this all taken care of. And you saw how happy Gohan is to spend time with him." Goku smiled at her. Chichi looked over at him again and rolled her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something else when she heard the door to the box open behind them.

Frieza was not surprised to see Goku and Chichi. Bulma had told them that everyone she invited would be in her personal box. As expected, Chichi gave him a scathing glare while Goku smiled warmly at him. "Good evening, guys," he said as he made his way to his seat.

Chichi noticed Frieza carrying a glass of something brown. She disapproved of how much Frieza drank but kept most of her comments to herself. "Good evening, Frieza. How have you been?" She might as well be cordial.

"I've been well. How is your son?"

"Oh you know. A busybody. He's figured out what his feet can do and gets into anything. I spent a whole day babyproofing everything in the house," Goku said.

Frieza nodded. "Good to hear the boy is well. Will I see you..." He was cut off by the sound of the door opening again. He raised an eyebrow as a pretty blonde in a purple dress entered the box. He was about to welcome her when he saw that very familiar black flame of hair following behind her. Bulma had not told him Vegeta would be attending.

"Vegeta!" Goku got to his feet. "I didn't know you were coming. Haven't seen you in a while either. How've you been?"

"Can I get to my seat, imbecile?" Vegeta guided his guest to their seats between Chichi and Frieza.

"Aren't you going to introduce your friend, Vegeta?" Chichi asked with a smirk.

Vegeta glared at her. Before he could say anything, his guest leaned over him and smiled at Chichi while holding out her hand. "I'm Hasky. Vegeta and I are longtime friends," she said.

Chichi nodded and shook her hand. "I'm Chichi. Beside me is my husband, Goku."

Hasky nodded and leaned back. She faced Frieza. "And you are?"

"Frieza. I'm the star's fiancé," he said.

Hasky did not like the aura Frieza gave off, but she kept the smile on her face anyway. "Nice to meet you, Frieza."

* * *

Bulma sat down in her dressing room. She was massaging her right wrist. There was a dark ring around it. There had been a minor  _disagreement_  between herself and Frieza shortly before they left for the concert hall that evening. Bulma could not really decide if she would have preferred him to just slap her. At least then makeup could cover up whatever bruise she got from it. Playing with a bruised wrist would be hell.

 _I'd almost forgotten how violent he could be. I guess his period of grace and civility is over_ , she mused sarcastically.

"Bulma?" Juu called as she opened the door. She stepped inside to see Bulma rising from her chair. Looking her over, she nodded in approval. "That dress looks magnificent on you."

Bulma narrowed her eyes as she walked forward. Juu's eyes traveled to skirt of the dress. A sneaky smile spread across her face. "You did not tell me there was a huge slit in this dress, Juu."

"Must've slipped my mind," she said.

"I'm sure it..." Bulma winced when Juu grabbed her right arm and held it up. Icy blue eyes narrowed before looking back at Bulma's baby blues. Bulma snatched her arm away, rubbing her wrist. "We just had an argument and he forgot his strength for a moment."

Juu crossed her arms. "Why is he grabbing on to you in the first place? Don't give him any excuses. That's two, Bulma."

"Juu, I'll be fine," Bulma said. Juu shook her head and rolled her eyes. She mumbled something that Bulma did not catch. Before she could inquire about what it was, she faced Bulma again. "It's time for you to go up. I'll be in the box."

Bulma raised an eyebrow. Usually Juu would watch her performances from backstage. "Oh? Why the box?"

"I have a date."

* * *

Meanwhile, Krillyn was pretending Vegeta was not burning a hole into the side of his head. He had not known his charge would be here. He was also surprised to see him with Hasky. As far as he knew, they had not made contact in a while. When the door opened behind him and Juu walked in, he breathed a sigh of relief. The blonde sat down next to him.

"Vegeta, stop making Krillyn nervous," Juu said.

Vegeta shot the other woman a glare. Beside him, Hasky giggled. He did not bother acknowledging her. She would hardly be intimidated by a glare from him. It always seemed that blondes were immune to his intimidation tactics. He was about to admonish her when the lights dimmed and applause rang throughout the hall. He looked towards the stage and saw Bulma walking out.

"Wow. Magazines don't quite do her justice. She's beautiful in person," Hasky said quietly. Vegeta silently agreed but said nothing.

* * *

Bulma sat down at the red piano. Luckily, the slit on the dress was on the side where her leg was not facing the audience. She flexed the fingers on her right hand and tried to roll her wrist. She winced and took a breath. She would probably have be near tears when she was done.

45 minutes later, Bulma was rising from her seat while the audience gave her a rousing round of applause. She faced them and walked to the edge of the stage to take her bows. Roses and wreaths were tossed up to the stage. She picked up one and placed it playfully on her head. With a final wave and smile, she exited the stage. As soon as she was out of sight, she exhaled and grabbed on to her wrist.

 _I need to wrap this_ , she thought while wincing in pain.

Juu was waiting for her in the dressing room. Bulma sighed with relief when she saw the tools she would need to alleviate the pain in her wrist. Juu motioned for her to sit down. Bulma did so and held out her wrist. "I don't know if anyone else could tell, but it looked like you were five seconds away from bursting out into tears up there."

Bulma chuckled. "I was about to after  _What Child Is This_. It was by sheer willpower that I got through the rest of it." She looked at her purple wrist. "I hope there isn't any permanent damage done."

"From the looks of it, there isn't. It's just bruised. You need to let it rest. No playing for the next week. You should not have even played today."

"This has been planned for months and I always do it. I would've played with a broken finger if I had to." Bulma held up her hand once Juu finished wrapping her wrist. "That feels much better. Let's hurry up and get to this party."

* * *

Vegeta and Hasky stood in the foyer of the concert hall watching everyone leave. Most were headed a block down to a hotel where the party was being held. Goku had asked him to wait for Bulma so they could all walk down together. Vegeta had begrudgingly agreed, especially after Hasky whined about wanting to meet the beautiful pianist. Frieza waited along with them.

The hall had almost completely cleared by the time Juu and Bulma came out. They were both bundled up. Bulma seemed surprised to see everyone still waiting. She smiled at them. "You guys didn't have to wait on us. It's just a block to the hotel."

Frieza walked over to her. "It's cold and dark out. Two pretty women don't need to be out walking alone."

Juu snorted. "Bulma probably would've been safer with me than with you," she said. Both Frieza and Bulma looked at her. She stared back evenly at Frieza, who narrowed his eyes and turned back to Bulma. "Let's just go." The blonde grabbed Krillyn and dragged him towards the doors.

Bulma was about to look up at Frieza when Vegeta's hair caught her eye. "You came, Vegeta!" She moved past Frieza and over to him. She smiled as she approached. She slowed down when she noticed he was not alone. Her smile became tight and forced. "You brought a guest."

Vegeta almost chuckled at the tone of Bulma's voice. "You told me to bring one," he said.

"I suppose I did," Bulma snapped without necessarily meaning to. She crossed her arms and looked at the other woman with the wispy blonde hair. "I'm Bulma Briefs."

Hasky held up a program. "I know. I'm Hasky. You have magic fingers. I've never heard such renditions of regular Christmas tunes. Vegeta also did not tell me how pretty you are in person," she said with a smile.

"Is that so? Thanks for coming. I'm glad to hear you enjoyed it." Gritting her teeth in her smile, Bulma sensed Frieza come up behind her and sighed. "Well, let's go. Hopefully we won't freeze on the way there." She turned and walked towards the entrance. Frieza glanced at Vegeta before following her.

Vegeta and Hasky brought up the rear as they walked down the icy sidewalk. Hasky was talking, but in reality she was observing. Vegeta had not looked away from the back of Bulma's head since they started walking. The other woman glanced back once and her eyes fell on Vegeta before she turned back around. Hasky stopped talking and yanked on Vegeta's arm.

"What?" Vegeta hissed.

Hasky leaned in closer to him. "You two are fucking, aren't you?" she whispered so no one else could hear. Vegeta's expression remained neutral but he did not confirm nor deny her accusation. Which meant it was true. "You are!"

"I am not," Vegeta looked away from her.

"But you have," Hasky said knowingly. Vegeta grumbled under his breath and rolled his eyes. Hasky chuckled. "You always struck me as the possessive type. Why would you want to be  _the other man_?"

"We are not fucking."

"But you have and I bet if the chance arose tonight you would. Do you think her fiancé knows?"

"We are..."

"Give it a rest, Vegeta. Do you think her fiancé knows?" Hasky repeated.

Vegeta sighed in resignation. "No. He probably suspects, though. He can hardly take the moral high ground. He's cheated on her and she actually puts up with it."

"That doesn't make what you two have done right, though. She used you for revenge?" Hasky looked back up towards Bulma. As if she sensed them looking, Bulma turned her head to the side, but she did not turn all the way around. Hasky smirked. "No. I think she just genuinely likes you. God knows why. Working with you must've been hell on the psyche." She laughed when Vegeta tugged her forward.

"Shut up. We're here."

"Yeah, yeah."

* * *

Bulma went straight to the bathroom after hanging up her coat. Luckily, the bathroom was private. She locked the door and walked over to the sink. She stared at herself in the mirror. A frown adorned her face. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, relaxing her face. Bulma knew why she was mad and she had no right to be. But since Vegeta was such a recluse, she had not really expected him to use the extra ticket.

 _And bring a beautiful woman at that_ , she thought. She opened her wristlet and pulled out her lipstick. After reapplying it, she stared at herself for a moment longer.  _It's Christmas. I should be happy for him. And I'm engaged to Frieza_. Just as she thought of his name, the pain in her wrist made itself known. Rolling her eyes, she replaced her lipstick and zipped up her wristlet.

Bulma unlocked the bathroom door and opened it. Before she could step out, a hand was on her chest and pushing her back. She stepped back into the bathroom, having to pull at the skirt of her dress so she would not stumble over it. Then she noticed who had stopped her from leaving.

"Vegeta?"

The man in question turned away from her as the door closed behind him. He locked the door and faced her again. He looked around, taking note of how fancy the private powder room was. Vegeta crossed his arms and his eyes found their way back to Bulma. "What is your problem, woman?"

Bulma raised an eyebrow. "There's nothing wrong, Vegeta. I'm fine," she replied tersely.

"Then what's with this attitude? If I'd known you were going to be such a bitch tonight then I would've stayed at home."

"I... I am not acting like a bitch!" she said loudly. Vegeta's face remained impassive, as if he knew she was lying. Bulma knew what he was referring to, though. She had been quite snappy with both him and his guest. What was her name again? Hasky? "I was just surprised you actually had a date. I didn't mean to seem unkind," she whispered, looking down at her hands.

Vegeta continued to stare at her when she began fiddling with the sash on her dress. He wondered for a moment if she knew how delectable she looked in such a dress. The high slit was not helping to keep his mind from traveling to less than wholesome thoughts about Bulma. He could see her long, slender leg peeking through. Then comprehension of her words washed over him. "Jealous, woman?"

Bulma's mouth dropped open. "Jealous? I am no such thing. Why would I be jealous?"

"You think Hasky and I are in a relationship. Clearly that bothers you," he responded. He could almost laugh at how Bulma's face reddened in both indignation and embarrassment. She crossed her arms and turned away from him.

"I don't have the any right to be jealous, Vegeta. I have no claim on you. I... We... You can do whatever you want with whoever you want," Bulma said, her voice much quieter. She was being silly, but she was indeed jealous. But she had a fiancé, she told herself for the millionth time that night. It would be so wrong of her to think Vegeta was exclusively hers. After all, they had not really spoken in weeks.

The pianist flinched when she felt a warm hand on her bared leg. She looked up into the mirror in front of her. Vegeta had made his way around to stand behind her. He was running his hand up her leg. His other arm snaked around her waist and pulled her flush against him. Bulma exhaled and let herself be held.

"Vegeta..."

"Hush, woman," he whispered against her neck. "Hasky is an art dealer I used to sell my work to when I was first starting out. She's just an acquaintance."

Bulma watched his hand slide up her leg in the mirror. "Just how  _acquainted_  were you with each other?"

Vegeta smirked against her neck. "If you are asking if I've ever done this," his hand slipped between her thighs and he lightly bit her neck, earning a small moan from Bulma for his efforts, "then no. We're just acquaintances." He removed his and spun Bulma around in his arms. She grabbed the back of his head and pulled him to her lips, kissing him hard and fast. They went at it, tongues warring for dominance, until it was obvious they needed air. They finally parted and Bulma rested her forehead against his.

For what seemed like hours, the pianist stood in his arms, saying nothing. "I missed you," she eventually whispered. Before Vegeta could react to that, she pulled herself away from him and looked in the mirror. Her lipstick had been smeared a bit. She looked at Vegeta and giggled, motioning to her lips. Vegeta frowned and went in search of a paper towel.

* * *

The two sneaked into the party completely unnoticed by everyone, except Juu and Hasky. The two blondes stood together and looked at one another like they knew a scandalous secret no one else knew. And they did.

"Where've you been?" Frieza asked as Bulma walked up beside him.

Bulma smiled and took his drink away from him. She downed it herself, frowning as she swallowed. She glanced up at him and ran a hand through his hair with a smile. "I just had to powder my nose, Frieza. How is that party going?" she asked, looking around at the merry partygoers. She moved away from Frieza as some people came to speak to her. Frieza watched her for a moment before turning back to the bar to order another drink.

"So are you and Frieza staying here for the night," Goku asked once Bulma joined her friends.

"We actually planned for that," Bulma said. "Already have a room and everything. What about you guys?"

"Yeah. It took some convincing, but I got Chichi to agree to it. You know we live outside the city and I'm sure the roads are even worse down that way," Goku said.

Bulma nodded and looked over at Chichi. "I take it you are not happy with this development," she said with a soft laugh.

"Goku made me leave Gohan with that brother of his," Chichi said, drinking from her eggnog. "Who knows what those two have gotten into. I wouldn't be surprised if I go home and find the house roped off as a crime scene."

Goku laughed. "Chichi still thinks Raditz is a bad influence."

The pianist nodded. "I can't imagine why," she said, winking at Goku. She was aware of the shenanigans Raditz had gotten into when they were younger and had always somehow managed to rope Goku into them as well. He was totally a bad influence. "But I hardly think he'll do anything to endanger Gohan."

"Thank you, Bulma. Raditz loves Gohan. Oh hey, Vegeta!" Goku waved his friend over to them.

Vegeta thought about ignoring the younger man, but he saw that Chichi and Bulma were with him. He could stomach his presence for a moment. He made his way over to them and stood beside Bulma. "What are you yelling for?"

"Just wanted to ask if you're staying the night here," Goku said, snatching up some hors d'oeuvres from a waiter as they passed him.

Vegeta frowned as he watched Goku shove them all in his mouth at once. "Initially, I had not planned on it. But even I think the weather is too bad to get back to my house."

"Well, since we're all staying here, maybe we can do breakfast in the morning," Krillyn asked as he walked up with Juu at his side. Bulma raised an eyebrow at the duo but said nothing. "Anyone for it?"

"I am," Goku said immediately. Chichi nodded along with him. Bulma agreed to it as well. They all looked at Vegeta. The artist sighed and looked away from them. "That means yes. I saw that the hotel has an all-you-can-eat..."

"Ha!" Everyone paused to see where the loud yell had come from. Hasky was rushing up to the group with a mischievous smile on her face. She stopped right in front of Bulma and Vegeta. "I have waited all night for someone to finally be under this thing!"

Bulma raised a confused eyebrow. "What thing?" she asked. Hasky pointed up. Everyone followed her finger. Sure enough, Bulma and Vegeta were standing under bouquet of mistletoe. Goku and Chichi laughed and looked at the two.

"You know what that means," Chichi said. "You have to do it."

"I don't think..." Bulma winced as Vegeta tugged her forward with her hurt wrist. Before she could realize what was happening, he slowly planted a kiss on her cheek and lingered there for a moment. Bulma seemed to forget the pain in wrist momentarily at the softness of the kiss. To anyone who was watching, it seemed quite innocent. To anyone who knew the two, it was anything but. Bulma stared at Vegeta in shock as he pulled back away from her. He released her wrist, mentally smirking at accomplishing his goal: shocking her into silence.

Applause and drunken yells of  _Merry Christmas_  pulled Bulma from her reverie and she blinked a few times at him. She saw the mischievous twinkle in his eye and crossed her arms. "Don't you want a kiss?" she asked.

Vegeta appeared thoughtful for a moment. Then he shook his head. He stepped forward. "I'll hold off until New Years," he said. Then he walked away from the group.

Bulma smiled to herself and faced the group again. Vegeta's playfulness had been most unexpected. She glanced up. Behind Chichi and Goku, just across the room, she saw Frieza glaring at her. She pretended not to notice him and went back to talking with the others.

To the surprise of everyone but Juu, Bulma did not turn up for breakfast the next morning.


	8. Parental Advisory

Frieza turned over and stretched as he woke up. He let his arms fall and noticed that the spot beside him was empty. He turned his head to see Bulma was not lying down. Instead, she was sitting up with her back to him. He sat up and scooted over til he was behind her.

Bulma flinched as Frieza touched her back. She looked down on the floor and saw her pajama shirt on the floor. She had never had a chance to put it back on. She immediately bent down, wincing as she did so. Ignoring the pain in her wrist, she picked up the shirt. She immediately put it on, shielding herself from Frieza's touch.

The man in question stared at her back. She was hunched over, hugging herself. "It's still pretty early. How long have you been awake?"

"I never really got to sleep." Without waiting for him to say anything else, Bulma rose from the bed and walked towards the bathroom. Frieza watched her while remaining quiet.

Bulma closed the bathroom door and leaned against it. She sank down until she was sitting and hugged her knees. After a few minutes, she heard a knock on the door. Her breath caught and she looked up.

"Bulma? Let me in," he said from the other side.

The pianist swallowed and got to her feet. She placed a hand on the doorknob. After a moment, she released it and turned away. "It's open," she said.

Frieza opened the door a moment later. Bulma was standing at the sink, running water into a towel. He glanced around. It did not look as if she had been doing anything else. He walked over to her and wrapped an arm around her waist. Bulma stopped moving and allowed him to turn her so he could look at her face. Her lip was split and a little swollen but other than that she looked fine. He glanced down at her body. Her shirt was still open so he had a view of her bare chest. There were a few purple marks around her sides; most looked like fingerprints.

Bulma gently moved out of his grasp and turned to leave the room. Frieza watched her go but did not stop her. Bulma went back into the bedroom and grabbed her phone. She had a few missed texts from her friends. Each was asking where she was. She looked at the one Juu sent. The blonde had asked if she was all right. Bulma decided to reply to her. She affirmed that she was basically still alive and apologized for missing breakfast. She tossed her phone back into her purse and sat on the bed.

Burying her hands in her hair, the memories of the night before came back.

_Frieza sat silently in an armchair, watching Bulma get ready for bed. She was standing in a mirror, attempting to braid her hair. He noticed her hand was still wrapped. If he was being truthful, he did feel a little guilty about hurting her hand before her performance. He needed to be more careful. Bulma made a living with her hands. She eventually gave up on her hair and decided to just wear it loose._

_The pianist felt Frieza's eyes on her the entire time. She was surprised he had not said anything yet. She counted that as a blessing and walked past him towards the bedroom of the suite. Before she could get past him, his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. Bulma stopped and looked over at him while he got to his feet._

" _You looked lovely_ _tonight_ _," Frieza said._

_Bulma blinked. His voice was surprisingly even. "Thank you," she replied quietly. She turned to walk away but Frieza held on to her. "Let me go, Frieza."_

_Frieza raised a fair eyebrow at her. Then he pulled her against him, squeezing her wrist. Bulma winced and tried to get out of his grasp. He leaned down and buried his face in the crook of her neck. Bulma froze, completely baffled by his actions. She stood as still and stiff as possible while he ran his hand up her back and into her hair._

" _Frieza, what are you..."_

" _You smell of him," he said suddenly._

" _What? Who?"_

" _Our neighbor."_

_Bulma sighed. "Frieza, the only thing I smell like is soap. Now let me go. I'm exhausted."_

" _You let him kiss you." Frieza's grip in her hair grew tight. Bulma winced at the small pain it was causing. "Why?"_

" _It was just the mistletoe, Frieza. Why are you so threatened by Vegeta?" Bulma made more of an effort to push him away. His grip on her loosened and she stepped away. "Now, I'm going to..."_

_Frieza slapped her. Hard. So hard that she thought she saw stars for a moment. She blinked a few times to try and straighten out her vision. Frieza swung her around so that her back slammed against the wall. His hand closed around her neck, holding her there. Instinctively, Bulma's uninjured hand grabbed onto his. Frieza leaned down into her face._

" _I am not threatened by him." He released her and backhanded her with his fist. Bulma fell to her left. She put her hands down to brace herself and landed hard on her injured hand. Pain shot through her hand and up her arm and she let out a loud cry. Frieza stared down at her for a moment before walking away._

_Bulma pulled herself up and sat against the wall. She cradled her hand close to her chest. Despite her bleeding lip, Bulma's mind was preoccupied with the immense pain in her hand. She sniffed, trying to keep her crying as quiet as possible._

"My father will be coming in tomorrow." Frieza's voice cut through her reminiscing. She looked to her left and saw Frieza leaning against the wall, looking freshly showered. "I think Cooler is coming with him."

Bulma narrowed her eyes. "Why are you just now telling me this? I'd already picked out Christmas dinner. Now I have to change it."

Frieza shrugged. "You'll get it done. Just remember no shellfish," he said. He walked over to Bulma and saw her cradling her hand. "You should probably get that looked at."

"I planned on it."

* * *

Juu was livid when she received the call from Bulma to meet her at the hospital. Bulma had sounded fine over the phone but Juu knew she was anything but. When she arrived she found the pianist sitting in the lobby. Juu rushed to her side and looked her over.

Bulma smiled weakly as Juu fretted over her. "I'm fine for the most part, Juu. I just need to get my hand looked at. It's... worse from yesterday," she said calmly. She held her hand out for Juu to see. While it had looked a little swollen the night before, it was now bruised around her wrist. Juu carefully moved the sleeve of Bulma's sweater up and saw how her forearm was also bruised.

"Bulma, what the hell happened?" Juu hissed, trying to keep her voice down.

The pianist sighed. "I fell on it." Not a lie, but not completely the truth. "I was wondering if I could just see your father about it."

Juu narrowed her blue eyes. "You mean you don't want any questions asked; ones that might require you to explain why your lip is swollen." She watched Bulma raise her good hand to her face. "Red lipstick just draws more attention to it. Go for a darker color next time. Come on." Juu turned away from her and started walking towards the elevators.

Juu's father was the head surgeon at West General. The reason Bulma had come to him was because she knew there would be no questions asked. Once upon a time, Juu had thought Bulma requested her father simply for the privacy. But now she knew that it was for legal reasons. They found the good doctor in an office. He did not look up as his daughter and her ward walked in.

"Lazuli," he said.

The blonde rolled her eyes at the sound of her real name. "Hello, doctor. I need a favor," she said.

Dr. Gero finally looked up. He saw Bulma standing to Juu's left and then looked back at his daughter. "And what can I do for Miss Briefs today?" Bulma walked forward and raised the sleeve of her sweater. Dr. Gero raised an eyebrow at the sight of her wrist and forearm. "Dear me, child. What happened here?"

"Well, um..."

"That isn't important right now, doctor. Can you just treat it?" Juu cut Bulma off before she could stumble through a lame excuse.

After an exam and X-rays, Dr. Gero came to the conclusion that it was simply a nasty sprain and bruising. The fall had only made it worse. He put her hand in a brace, told her to ice her forearm, and to stay away from the piano for at least the next month. He wrote a prescription for pain medication and sent them women on their way.

The two shared a taxi back to Bulma's brownstone. They rode in tense silence. Bulma could tell Juu was still angry. When they stopped in front of her brownstone, Bulma opened the door to get out. Before she did, she faced Juu again. The blonde was looking at her for the first time since entering the taxi. Bulma sat still and waited for her to speak.

"I can't make you leave, Bulma. That's a decision you have to be willing to make. All I'm going to say is that you better do it sooner rather than later. No man should be putting his hands on you like that. My door is  _always_  open," Juu said sternly.

Bulma nodded. "Thank you, Juu." She got out of the car.

Juu watched Bulma walk into her home. Then she looked at the brownstone next door. She told the driver to wait for a moment and got out of the car.

* * *

Vegeta was not expecting anyone to call on him that day and he was certainly not expecting Juu to push her way into his home when he answered the door. He saw the waiting taxi then shut the door. He turned to see her facing him and frowning.

"Why did you just invite yourself into my home?" Vegeta asked.

The blonde inhaled and exhaled slowly. "I need you to do something for me, Vegeta." She took the raised an eyebrow as a cue to continue. "Could you look out for Bulma for me?"

"Why?"

"Do you know why she didn't show up at breakfast this morning? Because her face was swollen. How do you think she got that way? That asshole she's engaged to hits her. You've spent a lot of time with her. I'm sure you've noticed," she said.

Vegeta walked past her. "How would I have noticed..."

"Don't bullshit me, Vegeta. I know you've been sleeping with her." Juu had to come to a sudden stop when he whirled on her. She met his eyes evenly. "I'm not here to blame you, but it's clear that Frieza has something against you and she suffers for it sometimes. I'm positive whatever he did to her was because of his possessiveness over Bulma."

"Wouldn't my further presence in her life be detrimental?"

"She cares about you, Vegeta; way more than she probably should. Don't look at me like that. I know her. I can tell. Maybe you can show her that she can leave. God knows she doesn't listen to anything I say." Juu turned to leave. When she got to the door, she turned and looked back at Vegeta. "Just watch out for her." She left.

Vegeta leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. Of course he had noticed Frieza's behavior towards Bulma. What did Juu expect him to do about, though? He would not be able to look out for her over Christmas anyway. He had an appointment to keep with his own family. Hopefully she would not end up in any trouble by the time he returned.

_Oh joy_.

* * *

Christmas morning began slowly for Bulma. Frieza had largely ignored her the rest of the previous day. She was most thankful for that. She had found herself bored, though. She sat in her boudoir, doing her makeup. Though it was just past 11am, Frieza's family would be over by noon. His father was a tall and creepy man that Bulma had never gotten used to. He always eyed her like she was a piece of meat ready to be devoured. On the other hand, Frieza's older brother treated her more like a servant than anything. He had a different woman with him every time she saw him.

"I wonder who the floozy will be today," she whispered as she painted her lips with a dark red. They were still slightly swollen. Juu had been right. A darker color made the swelling less noticeable. She tossed the lipstick back on the vanity and looked at herself. She looked in the mirror and could see a shadow approaching her from behind.

Frieza came into view and leaned against the door. He was also dressed for the day in a white button-up and black slacks. He watched Bulma rise from her seat to face him. He looked her over. "Don't you think that dress is a little plain?"

Bulma resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "It's Christmas, Frieza. Not a cotillion." She was wearing a relatively simple long-sleeved flared red dress. As far as she was concerned, it was  _festive_  enough. She saw Frieza eyeing her wrist brace. It was big and ugly but it made her wrist feel much better. She shrugged and walked past him.

"You know my father will want to hear you play," he said.

"Then he will have to put on one of my records. I can't play with a sprained wrist. I should not have even played the concert.  _That_ ," she glared at Frieza pointedly, "only made it worse." She left the room and headed for the stairs. Frieza followed her. By his footsteps Bulma could tell that he was irritated.

"You can't even try?"

" _I tried_  for the concert, Frieza," Bulma said dryly. "There is honestly nothing I can do except wait for it to heal. Dr. Gero said it was a bad sprain so it should take a few weeks to heal completely."

"But..."

Bulma rounded on Frieza when they reached the bottom of the steps. "No. I will not jeopardize my career just because your father wants to hear me play Liszt," she said sternly. She stared blankly at him, already mentally prepared for him to hit her. She could see he was about to when the doorbell rang. Inwardly, she sighed with relief.

Frieza shoved Bulma out of the way and walked towards the front door. He opened it to see an older, taller version of himself standing there. Just past him was a slightly shorter man, but he was still taller than Frieza. Without a word, Frieza stepped to the side to allow them in.

The pianist stood near the stairs. She was neither smiling or frowning while she watched Frieza greet his family. It never failed to amaze her just how much of a clone Frieza was of his father.  _King Cold. Who the hell names their son King?_  She heard her name and walked forward.

"Good morning, Bulma," Frieza's father said. His voice was far deeper than Frieza's.

"Good morning and Merry Christmas, Mr. Cold," Bulma said, forcing herself to smile.

"Bulma dear, you know I don't mind if you call me  _King_ ," the older man said.

Bulma nodded. "Then I will do so." She turned away from him to look at Frieza's older brother. He was helping a woman with thick, bushy orange hair out of her coat. "Hello, Cooler. Who is your friend?" she asked.

Cooler practically tossed his guest's coat at Bulma. He ignored the deep breath she took. "This is Zangya. Is there any tea?"

"I don't have any brewed but I will get Puella on it immediately," Bulma said. She stalked past him to hang up the coat he had given her. She moved slowly, listening to Frieza guide his family into the living room. Then she headed to the kitchen. Her housekeeper was busy fixing their dinner, so she did not bother her.

Puella saw Bulma searching around the kitchen for the tea. Like Bulma, she despised Frieza's family. Bulma's face was impassive but she could see the fire in her eyes. "Miss, I can fix the tea for them," she said.

Bulma shook her head as she put the kettle on. "No, Puella. You have enough to do with dinner. This is nothing I can't handle. Did you make any of those scones he likes?" she asked. Puella pointed to a tray wrapped in saran wrap on the counter. Bulma smiled a genuine smile and gave her a thumbs up. When she her task was completed, she picked up the tray and tea and sighed. "Wish me luck," she said playfully.

* * *

Ouji Manor was four stories of dark bricks, ivied walls, and steeples. The place looked more like a fortress than a home. It had been in Vegeta's family for generations. He was set to inherit the house himself, but he really had no desire to live in it. The taxi driver whistled as he drove up the long driveway. Vegeta could see how he could be awed by it. To him, it seemed more like a prison. If one looked closely, they would be able to see bars on a few of the windows. The artist inwardly smirked thinking of why they were there in the first place.

The bright yellow cab pulled up to the steps that led to the large wooden doors of the manor. Vegeta paid the man quickly and got out of the car. He glanced around the enormous snow-covered lawn before ascending the steps. He could tell they had been freshly shoveled. He was wondering by whom when he finally reached the door. Vegeta had just raised his hand to knock when the heavy doors were pulled open.

"Good afternoon, young master," came the stiff voice of his old caretaker, Nappa. The much larger man stepped to the side to allow Vegeta to enter.

"Were you waiting at the door for me or something, Nappa?" Vegeta asked while shrugging out of his coat. He handed it to Nappa.

"No. The security cameras did, though. Who else would be arriving in a city cab?" he replied.

Vegeta shrugged and glanced around the foyer. Despite its imposing exterior, Ouji Manor was decorated for the festivities. Garland was wrapped around the banisters. Lights hung from the walls. There was a large decorated Christmas tree as the centerpiece. Vegeta walked up to it. He already knew who the culprit was behind all the decorations. His father would never raise a finger to do such a thing.

The sound of his name along with childish laughter came from Vegeta's left. Before he could react, two little boys plowed into his legs. He blinked a few times. The last time he had seen these two troublemakers they could barely walk to him without falling. How old were they now? Vegeta peeled them off his legs and examined them. They started talking together and Vegeta could not understand a thing they were saying. He reached in the bag he held and gave them both a piece of chocolate. Soon after, the boys disappeared back from whence they came.

"Oh Vegeta! I didn't hear you arrive!"

Vegeta turned again only to be enveloped into a hug by a much shorter gray-haired woman. He awkwardly patted her back. "Hello, Gure," he said.

Gure stepped away from Vegeta. "Still as awkward as ever. You really should visit more often. Kosho and Mugi miss you. Come. I'll take you to Tarble." Gure gestured for him to follow her.

The artist picked up his bag and followed after her. She led him through the familiar halls of the house he grew up in. The place was as dark and grim as he remembered but somehow Gure had made it seem like an actual home instead of a prison. They came to a large sitting room with a larger Christmas tree with multi-colored lights, popcorn strings, and novelty ornaments stood in a corner. The fireplace was lit. The boys were sitting on the floor playing with what looked to be a train set. Sitting at a desk off in the corner was Vegeta's younger brother. He was staring intently at a computer monitor.

Gure shook her head. "Tarble, what did I say about working today?" she snapped.

Tarble's head turned towards her. He looked like a kid who had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "I was just answering some emails, Gure. It'll only take a..." He stopped and his face lit up when he saw who was behind Gure. "Vegeta! I didn't expect you until later!" He rose from his seat and rushed over to his brother.

For the second time in 5 minutes, Vegeta was engulfed in a hug. He only afforded his younger brother (and his wife) such a thing.  _And Bulma_ , came a random thought. He pushed it to the back of his mind and listened to Tarble explain himself to Gure. After a few minutes of being ignored, Vegeta cleared his throat. The two shorter people turned to look at him. "How is the old man?"

Tarble crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. Gure simply shook her head and walked off. "You know how Father is. All doom and gloom all the time. He's truly only nice to the twins. Spoils them rotten. He says it's because they haven't failed him like we have.  _Yet_." Tarble rolled his eyes.

"Sounds like him. Where is he?"

"In his sitting room, probably watching his TV and smoking."

Vegeta raised an eyebrow. "You haven't told him to kick that habit?"

"He won't listen to me but at least he's considerate. He only does it in his wing of the house and never around the twins. If he wants to keep destroying his lungs that's his business. Gure says he's just asking for death by cancer."

"Nonsense. That bastard will outlive us all." Vegeta turned around. "I'm going to greet him. God forbid I not make myself known before dinner." He walked off, leaving his brother alone in the room with his sons. Tarble waited until Vegeta was gone before sneaking back over to his computer. He only had 3 more emails and then he could turn his attention fully back on his family.

While walking to his father's wing of the house, Vegeta's phone buzzed in his pocket. He stopped and pulled it out. It was only Krillyn wishing him a Merry Christmas. Rolling his eyes, he locked his phone and put it back in his pocket. He continued down the dim hallway until he arrived at a large door. He did not bother to knock and just walked in. Predictably, Vegeta Sr. was doing just as Tarble said he was. He was watching TV and smoking a cigar.

Vegeta was a nearly a carbon copy of his father. Vegeta Sr. sported a graying beard and he was taller than both his sons. They had both been blessed with their late mother's height. Vegeta Sr. did not acknowledge Vegeta as the younger made his way over to him. He just continued to puff away at his cigar and stare at the TV. The man watched the strangest things. Currently, he was watching some sort of nature show.

After a full 5 minutes of silence, Vegeta Sr. looked at his oldest. "Still looking as unpleasant as ever, I see," he said. He noticed the bag Vegeta was carrying. "Staying the night, are you?"

Vegeta resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "You bitch when I don't come. Surely you aren't going to do it when I willingly want to remain in your presence for more than an hour."

"Mind your tongue, boy. You are never too old for a lashing." Vegeta Sr. ashed his cigar and took another puff. "I've heard about the work you're doing with that pretty little piano woman."

"How would you have known that?" Vegeta asked with a raised eyebrow. Vegeta Sr. gestured towards the TV. He did not take his father to be one to watch those celebrity gossip shows. "What about it?"

Vegeta Sr. shook his head. "Just odd that you would willingly work with anyone. You've never been a team player. But even I would make concessions for such a cute girl."

Vegeta sighed. "It wasn't like that," he groaned. Vegeta Sr. gave him a sideways glance. Vegeta knew there would be no convincing his father. The old man seemed to think he fucked anything on two legs. This might not have been far from the truth during his college years but Vegeta had long since grown past that stage of his life. "That woman has a man of her own."

The older man cackled. "Since when has that stopped you?" He had a point. "Anyway, you should find a nice woman and finally sire some sons. I never thought Tarble would beat you to that but I was wrong."

"It isn't a competition. I have no interest in taking a wife."

Vegeta Sr. ignored him. "I would've suggested that piano woman but you say she's already taken. One would never guess it by the way she looks at you."

"What are you talking about now, old man?" He watched Vegeta Sr. nod towards the coffee table in front of him. His ashtray was sitting on top of a magazine. It was the magazine he had posed for with Bulma not too long ago. Vegeta had never bothered to pick up a copy of it. He picked it up from the table and flipped to the article and photoshoot.

* * *

"You look very beautiful in these pictures, Bulma. You were styled magnificently," Zangya said. Bulma looked over at her. The orange-haired woman was holding up the magazine she had posed for. Zangya smiled at her. "Have you not seen them yet?"

Bulma shook her head. "Truth be told, I completely forgot about taking them. When I got back from the convention I started working on the Christmas concert music. I haven't seen the magazine at all," she answered.

"Well, you look amazing. And who is this stud with you?" Zangya paused to read the pages. "That's what Vegeta Ouji looks like? Why does he hide himself? He's gorgeous!"

Cooler glared at her. "And I am not?"

Zangya looked up at Cooler and kissed his cheek. "You know I only have eyes for you," she said with a giggle.

Bulma rolled her eyes and was about to look away when she saw Frieza grab the magazine away from Zangya. She watched him flip through the pictures. Bulma tried to remember if they had taken any pictures in any suggestive positions. There had only been one when he was laying on his back with his head in her lap. The others were fairly innocent with them just in random poses. She watched Frieza's facial expressions closely. He shut the magazine and handed it to her.

"You look great," he said blandly. There was no way for Bulma to tell how he felt about the pictures one way or another.

The pianist flipped through the magazine. "I was blindsided. Juu didn't tell me about a photoshoot until I got there."

"You two photograph well. Together," Frieza said. Bulma took a deep breath and rose from her seat. He grabbed her arm before she could get past him. "Where are you going?"

"Just to check on dinner, Frieza." Bulma waited patiently for him to release her. He did after a moment and she continued on her way. Puella was still fluttering about the kitchen when Bulma walked inside. She took a seat on one of the stools at the island and pulled out her phone. She stared at it for a moment before unlocking it, finding a contact, and typing in a message. She sat the phone down and rubbed her temples.

* * *

Vegeta tossed the magazine to the side when he felt his phone buzzing again. He opened it to see he had a text, but not from Krillyn. It was from Bulma. Confused, he opened it.

**Did u see pics in mag?**

Vegeta thought for a moment before responding in the affirmative. He waited for another message to come in. A few moments later, one did.

**Did u like?**

**Acceptable**

**ONLY acceptable?**

**I look great**

**U're an asshole u know?**

**Thank you**

**Merry Xmas jerk**

**Same**

Vegeta waited a few seconds more but nothing else came through. He stuffed his phone back in his pocket and looked up. Vegeta Sr. was looking at him curiously. Rolling his eyes, Vegeta got to his feet. Vegeta Sr. watched him leave with a sly smirk on his face.

Dinner with his family was a raucous affair. The twins had yet to master the art of feeding themselves and got more of the meal on their faces than in their mouths. Both Vegeta's largely remained silent, shoveling food in their mouths in an almost militaristic fashion, while Tarble and Gure did all the talking. Gure seemed very interested in the ballet that Vegeta had worked on.

"You wouldn't happen to be able to get us tickets, would you, Vegeta?" Tarble asked. Vegeta looked up from his plate at his younger brother. He knew for a fact Tarble had no interest in the ballet. This was solely to placate his wife. He gave a noncommittal shrug and went back to eating.

Gure gave a little squeak. "Thank you so much, Vegeta. I'm such a big fan of the ballet. I used to go all the time when I was younger; before I met Tarble. But then we met and I had the twins. Now I spend all my time with them..."

"You should get those brats a nanny and be done with it," Vegeta Sr. grumbled from his place at the head of the table. Gure paused and looked at the patriarch of the family. Tarble and Vegeta inwardly sighed. "My sons each had one and they turned out fine."

"Is that so? Then why do you call them failures every chance you get? One of them is socially inept except when it comes to talking a woman out of her clothes and the other is addicted to work," Gure said.

Vegeta glared at her. Why did everyone keep bringing up his exploits from when he was in his early 20s? Did they not call that  _sowing wild oats_? Was he not allowed to do that or something? He looked at his brother. Tarble was shaking his head. "Is this normal?" he asked under Gure and Vegeta Sr.'s arguing.

Tarble gave a small nod. "I'm lucky if they can go a day without saying something foul to one another."

Everything went silent when a piece of ham landed in Vegeta Sr.'s beard. Everyone looked to where it had come from. Kosho and Mugi were giggling sinisterly. Vegeta Sr. picked the ham out of his beard, still glaring at his grandsons. They were immune to his sour looks and just continued to giggle.

"Sorry, Gampa!" they said in unison.

Gure choked back a snort and rose from her seat. "That's enough of that, boys. No dessert for throwing food at your grandfather." The whining was almost instantaneous. "I told you both not to throw your food. You didn't listen."

"Aw, Gure. It's Christmas. Can't they..." Tarble stopped talking and raised his hands in surrender when the small woman sent a death glare his way. She gathered the boys' plates up and headed out of the room. Tarble shrugged. "Sorry, boys. I fought the good fight."

Vegeta Sr. cleared his throat softly. The twins looked in his direction. Their grandfather pushed two pieces of wrapped toffee their way. The twins took them happily and smiled at the old man. "Get out of here before your mother sees it," he said. Kosho and Mugi nodded and toddled out of the dining room.

The Ouji sons stared at their father in astonishment. Vegeta was now convinced that the twins could commit capital murder and his father would excuse it.  _And since when does he just carry around candy?_

* * *

Bulma sat in front of the TV, flipping through channels. It had been a long time since she had just sat in her home and did nothing. Since she had been ordered not to play her piano, she was forced to do other things. Her options were limited. She decided on lounging in the living room and watching TV. It only took 15 minutes before she was bored out of her skull. Grumbling to herself, she got up and headed towards the kitchen to heat up some eggnog.

While sipping the hot beverage and flipping through a clothing catalog, she heard a car door shut.  _Frieza can't be back so soon. It's barely been an hour_ , she thought while making her way towards the windows. Her fiancé had taken his family out for the day. Bulma only stayed behind by feigning illness. She had a feeling Cooler had not bought it but Frieza and his father certainly had and that was all that mattered in the grand scheme of things.

Bulma peered through the curtains and saw Vegeta walking up his stoop. She quickly polished off her eggnog and left the kitchen and ran upstairs to her room. She pulled on some leggings beneath her long baggy shirt and put on her  _dead animal boots_ , as Frieza had dubbed them. She haphazardly stuffed her hair under a skullie. There was an unopened gift box carefully hidden in her boudoir. She grabbed it and head downstairs to get her coat.

* * *

Vegeta had just finished changing into his usual sweatpants and tank top when his doorbell sounded. Grumbling and cursing whoever it was, he opened his door to find Bulma standing there, looking like she had literally just put a coat on and come outside. With the exception of her being naked on his bed, this was the most dressed down he'd ever seen her. Without waiting for a greeting, Bulma stepped inside and walked past him. Sighing, he closed the door and turned to follow her. She walked into his living room and faced him. It was then that Vegeta noticed she was carrying a wrapped box.

"What is that for?" he asked.

Bulma smiled and held out the box to him. "Merry Christmas! I meant to get it to you two days ago but you weren't home," Bulma said. Vegeta slowly took the box from her. Bulma watched him open it with a grin on her face. She took her skullie off, stuffed it in one of her coat pockets, and shook her hair out.

Vegeta sat the box down on an end table and pulled it open. He reached inside and took out a wooden box. He opened it and stared at its contents. Then he looked back up at Bulma.

"I remember you saying that ink brush painting is the only type of painting you've never tried. So I thought you might like to finally try it. What better way to start than with some brushes?" Bulma continued to beam at him.

The artist looked back at the brushes. He picked one up and looked at it. The quality was astounding. Where had she found some like this? He replaced the brush and set it down on the table. Then he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of the room. He took her to an open room where there were several easels and canvases. He led Bulma towards the back of the room where a large canvas was covered. He finally released Bulma and uncovered the canvas.

"I'm not used to buying gifts and I didn't really know what to get. So I..."

"Vegeta..." Bulma walked forward to see the canvas. It was a painting of her sitting in a concert hall. Bulma recalled that it was the concert where Vegeta had first seen her play. It was reminded her of a renaissance painting. She smiled and faced him. "I will always be amazed at how you paint from memory like this. It's so beautiful; like it belongs in a museum. I will definitely hang this in my parlor. I think that room could use a little color," she said with a giggle. Then she turned and threw her arms around him. "Thank you so much," she whispered.

When she pulled back from him, Vegeta held her in place. He ran a hand up her back and into her hair. They stared at one another for a long time. After what seemed like hours, Vegeta released her. "You should go. Before your fiancé starts wondering where you are," he said.

Bulma blinked a few times. Vegeta's tone did not go unnoticed by her but she did not comment on it. She looked back at the painting. "He went out with his father and brother. Probably won't be back for hours, but will be expecting a hard drink when he returns. Can I leave this here? I need to find a frame for it before I hang it," she said.

Vegeta shrugged. "Do as you please, woman." He remained standing across from her.

The pianist bit her lip nervously and winced when she bit where it had split. "Vegeta, I... I did mean what I said the other day. I do miss you." She did. Even if they had never entered into a sexual relationship, she still missed his quiet friendship. "I don't want us to avoid each other anymore. Can't we still be friends?"

The artist raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to be  _friends_ , woman?"

It was a simple question but it seemed so complex to Bulma. If she was honest with herself, no she did not want to be Vegeta's  _friend_. Or at least,  _just_  his friend. But if that's all they could be then she'd rather have that than nothing. Frieza had successfully isolated her from most of her friends. She did not want Vegeta to leave too.

So she shook her head. "No. But if it's all I can have then I'll take it."

Vegeta shook his head and closed the distance between them, pressing Bulma against the canvases behind her. She put her right hand on his shoulder and the left balanced on the canvases. Vegeta pulled her forward a bit, lowering his head to her neck. "You settle far too easily, woman," he said low in her ear.

Bulma gasped when he sucked on a sensitive spot on her neck. He ran his hands inside her coat and slid it off her arms. Bulma let it fall to the floor and wrapped her arms around Vegeta's neck, squeezing him. Vegeta ran his hands down her torso and picked her up. Bulma eagerly wrapped her legs around him and kicked off her boots. He carried her over to a table. With one hand, Vegeta swept the notebooks and papers off the large table and sat Bulma down on it. She unwrapped her legs and pulled him forward by the waistband of his pants. Vegeta stepped between her legs and watched her slide her uninjured hand inside. She wrapped her hand around his cock. The coolness of her hand made Vegeta flinch. Smiling at his reaction, Bulma raised her legs and toed his sweatpants down just enough that she could release him.

"Do you ever wear underwear?" she asked jokingly. She stroked him slowly.

"Do you have on anything under that ugly shirt?" Vegeta countered.

"This is what I slept in." She let Vegeta pull her forward to the edge of the table while she continued to stroke him. Her movements became faster and she watched his face. She had always been so caught up in her own feelings that she had never just watched Vegeta's expressions as they changed. He attempted to train his features but the slow blinks and deep breaths gave him away. Bulma idly wondered if she could finish him like this...

Vegeta suddenly grabbed Bulma's hand and pulled her off of him. She glanced up at him, appearing confused. Vegeta pulled her off the table and spun her around. He yanked her leggings down pushed her forward. Bulma leaned over the desk as Vegeta pulled her hips back, impaling her from behind. Bulma threw her head back, mouth open in a silent scream.

"No foreplay?" she taunted. Vegeta growled and started with a slow but powerful pace, pushing Bulma forward. She sat up on her hands, careful not to put too much pressure on her injured hand. She held herself still, surprising Vegeta. She turned her head, a small smirk adorning her face.

The artist raised an eyebrow and squeezed her hips. He picked up his pace and Bulma turned up her volume. Vegeta pulled her arm back and used her finger to rub her clit. Bulma hissed and lay flat across the table.

"Vegeta..." she moaned. She left his hand and reached further back to where she could feel him sliding in and out of her. She smirked inwardly when she heard Vegeta choke back a gasp. She put her thumb and index finger on either side of him and gently held on. Vegeta squeezed her hips, probably leaving bruises, and then released her. He placed his hands on the desk on either side of her and pushed himself faster and faster until Bulma was screaming his name.

Bulma groaned when Vegeta pulled her up and against his chest, slowing his rhythm. He kissed her neck, driving in slowly. One hand found her clit while the other ran under her sweatshirt, pinching one of her hardened nipples. He felt her begin to tighten around him and she reached behind her and buried her hand in his thick hair. He bit down on her neck and sucked, but not hard enough to leave a mark.

"Cum for me, Bulma," he whispered in her ear.

His voice alone was enough to send her over the edge. She clamped down on him and moaned out her orgasm. "Ve... ge... taaaa..."

Vegeta finished almost immediately after her; Bulma's voice being his catalyst as well. He loosened his grip on her and she leaned forward over the desk. He watched her as she gathered herself. His eye caught sight of her bandages wrist. He left the room abruptly.

Bulma looked up nervously when she heard Vegeta leave. She had not exactly been expecting such a sudden departure. Before she could call out to him, he returned with two towels. She caught one when he tossed it to her. Bulma mumbled her thanks and went about cleaning herself up a bit. She redressed and went for her coat. She sneaked a glance at Vegeta, wondering what he was thinking. As usual, his face gave nothing away.

"I... I'm not just using you, Vegeta," she said quietly.

She spoke as he was pulling his sweatpants back on. He looked in her direction. "I wouldn't let you just use me, woman." He walked towards her, backing her into a wall. "Do I look like the type to let a woman use me?"

Bulma sighed and stepped around him. "No. It's just something... Never mind." She started pulling her coat on.

Vegeta watched her move. "Why do you stay?" he asked suddenly.

The question took her by surprise. She paused in her movements for a moment but continued. Once she got her coat on, she sighed. "Because I'm scared. I'm scared of what he'll do to me. If he ever found out about us..."

"He is possessive yet he treats you this way. I do not understand men like that." He gently lifted her injured hand and caressed it. "It's cowardly."

"Juu says she can't force me to leave. I have to want to. Vegeta, I want to. I want to so badly. But I'm just so scared." Bulma tried to blink back the tears but they came anyway. She pulled her hand away from him. "I have to go before he gets back." She walked past him and out of the room.

Vegeta sighed and followed after her. Before she reached the door, he called out to her. Bulma turned around to look at him. He was twirling a set of keys on his finger. Bulma appeared confused as he held them out to her. "My loft."

"Why are you..."

"I'm sure he knows where the blonde lives. He doesn't know where my loft is," Vegeta said.

Bulma took the keys and held them to her chest. Her eyes rested up again and she looked down. Sniffling, she threw herself into Vegeta's arms and buried her face in his chest. "Thank you," she whispered. She raised her head and kissed him with all her might. "Thank you so much." She turned and opened the door to the brownstone. Instead of walking to her home, she turned the opposite direction. As if sensing Vegeta's confusion, she motioned to the convenience store. He nodded and watched her until he could see her no more. With a long sigh, he shut the door.

The artist could not shake the sudden sense of dread he felt.


	9. Resolutions

"So why am I the last to find out?" Chichi exclaimed. She looked between Bulma and Juu. Bulma was stirring her hot cocoa, determined not to look at Chichi. Juu was sipping her own tea and gave Chichi a lackadaisical shrug. Chichi scoffed and crossed her arms. "You guys are so mean. You're always leaving me out. Is it because I'm a mom? Is that it? That is so insulting," she said quietly.

"That's not it, Chichi. To be honest, I would've taken it to my grave if Juu hadn't found out," Bulma said.

"As if I wouldn't put two and two together after catching you sneaking into your hotel room without your pants on," Juu said in return. "Let's not forget that you  _lied to my face_  literally a week before I found you out. I still find that funny; telling a boldfaced lie right to my face. Can you believe that, Chichi?"

Bulma shook her head. "Technically, I just refused to answer the question."

"A lie of omission is still a lie, Bulma."

"That wasn't a lie of omission. I would have had to leave out something, but I didn't. I just didn't answer the question at all. How could I omit anything if I never answered the question?"

Chichi looked at Bulma. "Wait! What? When did this happen?"

"You saw that magazine they were in? Well, the pictures were taken during that trip. By sheer coincidence they had the two top suites at the resort. So the morning after the convention dinner, I come up to tell Bulma her itinerary and she's sneaking back to her suite from Vegeta's," Juu tattled.

"I see," Chichi said. She looked over at Bulma in silence. "Well?"

Bulma appeared confused. "Well what?"

"Is he any good?" Chichi asked. Bulma sighed and looked away. Juu just snickered into her cup. "What? It's a perfectly valid question. It's one thing to do it once. But you've done it twice now..."

"Three times," Bulma whispered.

Juu sat her cup down and glared at Bulma. "So that's what you two were doing at the after party?"

"What? No. We just kissed and he... felt me up in the bathroom."

"I like how she says that as if it's perfectly normal to commit sexual acts in a public restroom," Chichi said, pouring orange juice into a sippy cup. She closed the cup and gave it to Gohan, who was sitting in the stroller next to her. The baby took it happily and went back to watching the three women talk.

"So when was this third time?" Juu asked.

Bulma cleared her throat. "Yesterday," she whispered.

"Bulma!"

"What? I went over to his house with the sole intention of giving him the gift I got him for Christmas. I did that and he gave me a gift too. After that, things just kind of went from there. I didn't plan on taking it there just like I didn't plan on ever doing anything with him in the first place. Things just... happen."

Juu rolled her eyes. "Clearly you two can't be in a room alone without wanting to jump each other."

"Wait. Vegeta gave you a gift? Vegeta never gives gifts," Chichi said.

"Yeah he said something about not being used to giving gifts. I got him new brushes for a type of art he wants to try. He made me a painting."

"He made you a painting?" Chichi asked. Bulma nodded. "An actual painting? For free?" Bulma nodded again. "Well, I'll be damned."

"What was it a painting of?" Juu asked next.

"The first time he saw me play. It reminded me of one of those paintings you see in the Louvre by those Italian guys. An oil painting. Which reminds me that I need to get a frame..."

"He made you a painting and didn't draw you a picture?" Chichi asked. Bulma nodded once more. Chichi's eyes went wide and she smiled. "That is so sweet! Do you know how rare that is? Vegeta never paints for free, Bulma. Now, you didn't answer my first question."

"Which was?"

"Is he any good? Well, he must be if you can't keep off of him. Vegeta is a perfectionist so I imagine he'd strive to be nothing but the best at that sort of thing," Chichi said while absentmindedly stirring her tea. "But, Bulma! You need to leave Frieza. You should not be marrying him. Especially if he is doing  _that_  to you." Chichi motioned to Bulma's wrist brace.

Bulma glared at Juu. The blonde glared pointedly back at her. "Juu!"

"Oh hush, Bulma. Anyone with eyes could tell there was something wrong with your relationship. He's possessive and he looks at all of us as if we'll kidnap you at a moment's notice. You never look happy around him and like you would rather be anywhere else than beside him. If anything, Juu only confirmed my suspicions. I'm not going to give you the talking to you so richly deserve. I'm sure Juu has already had that covered. What I am going to ask is have you any protection against that asshole?"

The pianist raised an eyebrow. "Protection? Like a weapon?"

"That would be preferable but I'm more or less talking about your assets. If you're going to take your sweet time leaving that piece of shit..."

"Chichi!"

"I'm just saying. If you're going to even go through with the marriage, at least make sure that bum can't get any of your money during the inevitable divorce. Not a single cent. Oh, Bulma! Why don't we just go over to your place and pack his shit up and put him out?"

"Chichi, I can't do that right now!"

"And why not? You don't think he'd throw you out if he finds out about Vegeta?"

Bulma snorted. "He'd do worse than that, Chichi. You guys would probably be identifying my body." She sipped her cocoa again. The silence unnerved her and she glanced back up at her friends. "What? Stop looking at me like that. It was just a joke."

"That was not funny," Juu said, annoyed. "Anyway, I've been invited to a hotel party for New Year's Eve. Just some industry people. Nothing grand or spectacular. We'll probably just all sit around and drink. Care to join us, Chichi?"

"Us? Who said I'm going?" Bulma crossed her arms.

Juu rolled her eyes and shook her head. "There is no way I'm leaving you alone with that fiancé of yours on a night when alcohol will not be in short supply. You're coming and you're not going home until his hangover wears off." She turned her attention back to Chichi. "What about it? Can you come?"

Chichi laughed and shook her head. "Can't. Goku's parents are coming over for the night. Plus, it's Gohan's first New Year! Isn't that right, my sweet pumpkin? You're gonna be so cute in your little costume." She tickled the baby and he giggled happily in return. "Will Vegeta be there?" Chichi cut her eyes to Juu.

"I might have told Krillyn to mention it to Vegeta. Whether he comes or not is up to him, though. Bulma," Juu looked at the pianist seriously, "what is this relationship with Vegeta like for you?"

Bulma focused on the mug in her hands and thought over Juu's question. What was their relationship? She had already come to the conclusion that she liked Vegeta as more than just someone she randomly had sex with. Her feelings for him went deeper than that. They were complex. She even had a hard time gathering them in her mind. Bulma had already told Vegeta that she wanted better for them.

"It isn't purely physical, if that's what you're asking. If I could, I wouldn't mind actually being in a real relationship with him. I told him I didn't want to be friends but if that's all we could be then I would take it," she answered.

"And what did he say to that?" Chichi asked next.

Bulma sighed. "He told me that I settle too easily."

* * *

Vegeta walked into the room he had converted into a dark room in his brownstone. He clicked on the red safelight and walked over to the hanging pictures on the far wall. He gently took them down and left the room. Vegeta went to the kitchen where he had started heating up leftovers from Christmas dinner that Gure had forced him to take home. Just as he was dropping the new photos on the island, the microwave beeped. Vegeta retrieved his food and sat on a stool.

While he was eating, Vegeta went over the pictures. The first few were inconsequential test photos of the loft that he had taken after loading the camera. After picking through those, he came to the ones he had been waiting for: Bulma's pictures. The first one was of her sitting on his bed at the loft in her tight skirt and blouse. She was removing her shoes. The next was of her letting her hair down. He continued to sift through the pictures of her on his bed until he came to one of himself. It was the picture she had taken of him. It was slightly out of focus but his face was clear enough. He was not looking at the camera but at some point past it. Vegeta could only guess he had actually been looking at her. He wore a placid expression that bordered on happy. If anything, it appeared as though he was about to smile. Shaking his head, he continued through the pictures.

Vegeta paused when he came to one that he had taken of her while she was on the bed. It was after their first time. She was sitting with her bare back to him. The canopy had been pulled closed and it gave the photo a strange effect as though she was just an astral being. She had not posed for this particular picture. After Bulma had heard the shutter go off, she had turned to see him. Bulma had not really posed for the rest, just watching him as he moved around her.

Once he was done going through them, Vegeta finished his food. He went back to through the photos once again, noticing that although Bulma smiled in a lot of them, her eyes were still quite sad. The photos that came after their... time together had her eyes alight with fondness as she looked at him. He knew she was beautiful and had told her so in a roundabout way. But the smiles she gave him sometimes were disarming. No one had ever looked at him with such feeling. It was as if he truly made her happy. It made Vegeta feel as though he was  _responsible_.

Vegeta could admit that he liked Bulma more than any other woman he'd ever been with. That was not a long list, either. He had never really had a steady relationship before. Just a few  _buddies_. He was not even in an official relationship with Bulma; though it was obvious she wanted to be. But how could she while being stuck in such an abusive relationship?

The artist did not realize he was squeezing one of the photos in his hand until he heard his phone going off from the next room. Thinking of Frieza only served to piss him off. Who hits women? Especially ones you claim to love? He sat the photos down and headed towards the living room. His phone was sitting on an end table. As he approached, he could already see who it was. He snatched the phone up and answered it. "What?"

_"First of all, rude. Second, I only called to tell you about a party for New Year's. Before you start groaning, hear me out. It's not really a party, per se. Just a little get-together for some drinks and to watch the fireworks from downtown. Juu wanted to invite you."_  It was Krillyn.

"I don't do parties," Vegeta stated blandly.

Krillyn sighed deeply from his end.  _"I'm aware of that, Vegeta. You don't have to come, but who wants to be alone on New Year's? Just think about it. You might have fun."_  He did not wait for Vegeta to respond and hung up.

Vegeta sat his phone back down on the end table. Since he'd started spending more time outside of his home, he'd found that while he still enjoyed solitude, he did miss seeing  _other people_. He would probably never admit it out loud but the period where he and Bulma were not speaking was frustrating. He had grown accustomed to her presence. He was still thinking when his phone buzzed. He looked down at it and saw it was a text message form Krillyn. It was the information for where the party would be.

_Maybe I'll go to this thing. If for nothing else than for the free drinks_.

* * *

Frieza walked into the bedroom he shared with Bulma to see her sitting in her boudoir. She was doing her makeup. She was also dressed. Setting his fair eyebrows into a frown, he walked further inside and leaned against the wall. He noted her attire while slowly drinking from his beer. She had on a cream-colored sweater dress and thick knee high socks. A pair of red boots was sitting off to the side. Her hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. She looked good.

Bulma was applying her lipstick when she finally noticed Frieza in the mirror. She finished applying the color to her lips and looked over at him. "I didn't hear you come in. Is there something you need?" she asked.

"Yeah. I want to know where you're going," Frieza said. He took another lazy sip of his beer. "You're all dolled up."

"I told you already. You don't listen to a damn word I say," Bulma said with a roll of her eyes. "Juu invited me out. I'll be back tomorrow afternoon."

Frieza's frown only deepened. "What's wrong with staying here?"

"And sit around watching you and your friends get drunk? I don't think so, Frieza. You have your friends and I have mine." Bulma turned her body in the seat and reached for her boots. As she was putting them on, she heard her phone go off. "Juu is probably here." She finished zipping her boots up and stood. "How do I look?"

Frieza looked her over. "Fine, I guess. I still think you should stay here," he said. He saw Bulma roll her eyes while she walked past him. He followed after her. "Who am I going to kiss at midnight?"

Bulma picked up her purse and phone and left the room. Frieza was hot on her heels as she descended the stairs to the foyer. She could hear Frieza's friends in the living room. From what she could hear, Ginyu and his cronies had also come over in addition to Zarbon and Dodoria. Now she knew she was making the right choice leaving. She walked to the coat closet and pulled out one of them. She faced Frieza as she was putting it on.

"Well?" he asked again.

Bulma kissed her hand and touched his cheek. "I'll call you. Don't burn the house down and don't drink too much," she said. Before Frieza could say anything else, Bulma opened the door and was gone.

Frieza flinched when a hand clamped down on his left shoulder. He turned his head to see Dodoria standing there. "What do you want?"

"She seemed like she was in a hurry," he said. "She have a hot date or some... Oof!" Dodoria stumbled back after receiving an elbow to his fat gut. He saw Frieza glaring at him and chuckled. "I was just joking, man. Stop worrying about that woman. It ain't like she's out there getting into trouble. She's too scared of you for that!" His laughter echoed in the foyer. Frieza sighed and stalked past him and into the living room.

Bulma shivered as she finally sat in the taxi. She turned her head to the left and saw Juu sitting there. "Ever since I started spending more time away from the house, he's become all clingy. It's so annoying." She shivered again just thinking of his newfound clinginess.

Juu snorted. "The fucker is afraid you're gonna leave him. You know he feels threatened by Vegeta."

"Where to, ladies?" the driver said from the front of the street.

"Hotel Dragon," Juu said. The driver nodded. Bulma turned to look at her brownstone as the pulled off. She was glad to see that Frieza was not watching through any of the front windows.

* * *

Vegeta walked into the party at around 11pm. He figured an hour would be enough time for him to be social before his tolerance wore thin. He would stay for the fireworks then make his way back home. He was surprised to see that it was less of a party and more of a simple meeting of friends. Everyone was huddled in groups, having their own separate conversations and drinking. The scene was very laidback. This was something Vegeta could appreciate. He hung his jacket on a coatrack and headed for the bar.

* * *

Bulma looked between Krillyn and Juu over the top of her glass. They had been mighty close all night. Or as  _close_  as it got for Juu. She was never one for public displays. She swallowed the rest of the large fruity drink she'd been nursing for an hour and cleared her throat. The two across from her looked in her direction. "So... What is this?" Bulma motioned between the two.

Krillyn cleared his throat and got to his feet. "I, uh, am going to get a refill. Be right back, ladies." He made off quickly without looking back.

Bulma watched him go then turned her attention back to Juu. "Well?"

"What makes you think something is going on?" Juu asked.

"Oh come off it! You talk about Vegeta and me! Wouldn't be interesting if our agents were screwing too?" The pianist giggled.

Juu stuck her nose in the air. "For your information, we are not screwing. We are just spending time together."

A blue eyebrow rose. " _Spending time together_? In the real world, we call that dating. And how long has this been going on?"

"A few months," Juu responded with a shrug.

"A few months, she says. And you say you aren't screwing?" Bulma appeared even more incredulous when Juu nodded. "I'm shocked. You usually take it much faster than that."

"Are you calling me easy?" Juu narrowed her eyes.

Bulma chuckled and shook her head. "No. You're just more forward with what you want. That you're taking it slow with Krillyn and actually  _dating_  him is a surprise."

"Well, I figured maybe a different approach was needed in the way I conduct my love life. Plus, he's... Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm just surprised!" Bulma laughed. "He's just so not your type."

Juu shrugged again. "Yeah well. You and Chichi told me to broaden my horizons. He's different than what I'm used to dating but it's nice. He's nice." She looked towards the bar. Krillyn was there but she also caught sight of a familiar head of hair. The smirk returned to her face. "Well I'll be damned. He did come."

"Huh?" Bulma finished off her drink She followed Juu's gaze to Krillyn. Beside him was Vegeta. "I certainly didn't expect him to come. Vegeta just keeps surprising us," she said.

* * *

"Good to see you, Vegeta!" Krillyn said loudly. He ignored the sharp glare the artist gave him and gave his order to the bartender. Then he looked back at Vegeta. "I fully expected you to disregard my invitation. What changed your mind?"

Vegeta glared at Krillyn again. The shorter man's face was slightly red; a sign that he had been drinking. "Free drinks," he replied dryly.

Krillyn snorted as the bartender sat his fresh drinks down in front of him. "Yeah, well. I hope you have a great time. I'll be over here if you need me." The bald man gathered his two drinks up and left Vegeta alone. Vegeta watched him go for a few seconds and then ordered another beer.

"Hey stranger," Bulma whispered in Vegeta's ear. He turned around to look at her, clearly shaken. Bulma laughed at his confused expression. He relaxed when he realized it was just Bulma.

"What are you doing here, woman?" He glared at the red tinsel wig on her head. "And why do you have that hideous thing on your head?"

Bulma primped her wig. "I'm in disguise! It's the only way I'd be able to party without being noticed. It's worked so far. No one even knows I'm the beautiful and talented Bulma Briefs," she said, motioning to the people around the room.

"Hmph. I doubt anyone would care. Most of these people are drunk off their skulls," he said. Just as he finished talking, a large man stumbled towards Bulma. Vegeta grabbed her and yanked her forward against his chest. The drunk man passed by, mumbling his apologies. "See?"

"Yes, well... Why are you here? I would've thought you would stay at home. You've said parties aren't your thing."

"They're not," Vegeta said. He moved with Bulma so that she was standing against the bar. He sat on the barstool with her between his legs. "Now you can't get trampled."

Bulma chuckled and batted her eyes. "I knew you'd protect me!" She watched as he began drinking his beer again. "You never answered my question."

Vegeta sat the bottle down beside Bulma. He looked at her sternly for a moment before shrugging. "It was too quiet at my place. My agent told me about this party," he said. He probably would not be telling her any of this if he was 100% sober. "It was... lonely."

The faux redhead blinked at Vegeta's admission. She saw the clock slightly behind him. "Well, you aren't alone anymore. You're with me now," she said.

"It certainly looks like that," Vegeta said, polishing off his drink. He called for another and one for Bulma as well. Once they were served, Vegeta stood up. "Let's go sit somewhere else."

* * *

Across the room, Juu and Krillyn watched the two as they went to sit on an empty couch.

"They actually make a cute couple," Krillyn said. "He seems to really like her. Like really, really like her."

Juu raised an eyebrow and looked over at Krillyn. "How can you tell?"

"His body language." Krillyn saw Juu appeared confused. "His posture is usually closed off and defensive when he's around strangers or people he doesn't like. His general stance usually gives off the impression that he's unapproachable, which is the case most of the time. But with Bulma, he willingly put her within his personal space. He's still very defensive, but only in the sense that he's still aware of his surroundings. Even that is starting to slide. He must be sorta drunk."

"Impressive. You could be an interrogator for the police," Juu said.

Krillyn shook his head. "Nah. I've just learned to read Vegeta. When you've been around him as long as I have, you've gotta learn just to survive him. Goku is better at it than me, though. Why do you think he's so unaffected by the way Vegeta treats him?"

Juu snorted. "I just thought that was because he's an idiot."

"Maybe that's also a component. But Goku knows Vegeta in a way a lot of people don't." Krillyn glanced over at the clock. "We've got about thirty minutes left."

* * *

Bulma finished chugging her beer and put the bottle down on the coffee table across from them. She leaned against Vegeta's shoulder. "There's thirty minutes left in this year."

"Hn. How should we make it count?" Vegeta watched her try to appear thoughtful.

"I'm going to ask something and you have to tell me the truth." Bulma watched him shrug and nodded. "What did you think when you first saw me?"

Vegeta stared blankly at her for a second then chuckled. "I thought you had the weirdest hair I've ever seen," he said truthfully.

Bulma rolled her eyes but laughed anyway. "Well when I first saw you I thought you were quite handsome. Then you opened your mouth. You were so rude to me and mean to Goku." She laughed a bit at the memory. "Tell me about yourself, Vegeta," Bulma said.

Vegeta glanced over at her. "What's there to tell that you don't already know?"

"I don't know anything about your family or where you grew up. Tell me about that."

Vegeta looked away from her. "I'm named for my father. I'm actually the tenth in my family to be named Vegeta. I have a younger brother, a sister-in-law, and twin nephews," he said in a bland tone.

"What about your mother?" Bulma felt him tense slightly beside her. She touched his arm gently. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

The artist shook his head. "She was a wonderful woman. She had to be to put up with my father. She was an art professor. She saw that I had a talent for drawing and gave me my first set of drawing pencils for my eighth birthday."

Bulma smiled. "So she nurtured your talent."

"Something like that." Vegeta shifted in his seat. "About a decade ago, my parents were in a car accident. Drunk driver struck them head on. My father ended up with a crushed leg and a few other broken bones. My mother couldn't be saved. She's the reason I do what I do."

The pianist sat up a bit. "She's the reason you became an artist? I thought..."

"I was initially going to go to follow in my father's footsteps and go to the military. That was kind of what was expected of me as the next  _Vegeta_. Instead, I withdrew my application from the military academy and enrolled in the university here. The old man was pissed. He's still pissed, truth be told. But I did it because it was what I always wanted and she had always told me to live for myself." Vegeta took another swig of his beer. "What's your story, woman?"

Bulma nodded. "You know Capsule Corporation?"

"Yeah. That big company that makes damn near everything?"

"That's it. I'm actually the sole heir to it and its fortune. My father built the company. I could've taken over the company years ago, but I love making music. While I'm sure he would've been ecstatic for me to take over the company when he retired, he wasn't angry that I chose another path," Bulma said.

Vegeta turned his head to look at her. She was staring straight ahead with a faraway look in her eyes. "There was a fire at one of his labs. It's strange because my mother almost never went to see him at work. But she went that day to bring him lunch." Bulma snorted and looked at Vegeta. "You know, they hated Frieza? They never warmed to him at all. Not even my mother, who liked everyone. I have a feeling she would've loved you, though."

"And why is that?" Vegeta moved a few pieces of tinsel out of Bulma's face.

"She has a thing for the dark, broody types. It's so strange because my father was anything but dark and broody. He was a quirky nerd. I can almost hear her now.  _That young Vegeta is such a nice boy. Very handsome, too. Look at me! I'm a married woman! Why can't you date someone like him?_ " Bulma laughed at her own joke. She snuggled against Vegeta again. "What time is it?"

Vegeta looked around the room for a clock. He squinted when he found one. "Five minutes till midnight," he answered. He saw everyone beginning to leave. "Aren't you going to the roof for the fireworks?"

Bulma shook her head. "I'm fine right here for now. That and I don't trust myself on some stairs," she said with a giggle. "Do you have any resolutions, Vegeta?"

"No." The answer came almost as soon as Bulma finished the question. She craned her neck to frown at him and he shrugged. "I don't. I find those things foolish and a waste of time. No one ever sticks to them sticks to them," he explained.

"I don't think they're foolish. I think they're a great place to start. You know? I think the problem is that people make them too specific. Why not be vague? Instead of saying you'll lose weight, say you'll take better care of yourself," Bulma posited.

"I see. Well then, do you have a resolution, woman?"

Bulma appeared thoughtful for a moment. "I resolve to be stronger."

"Just stronger?"

"See? Vague," she said as the clock struck midnight. They could hear the fireworks going off in the distance. "Happy New Year, Vegeta."

"Is it?"

Bulma smiled at him. "Is there a way we can make it happier?" She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

* * *

Up on the roof, Juu felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She pulled it out and saw that she had a new text message. After reading it, she rolled her eyes. She tapped Krillyn on the shoulder and he faced her. "We'll probably be better off getting our own room," she said cryptically.

Krillyn stared at her in question for a moment. Then it dawned on him and he shook his head. "Don't suppose we should be surprised by that."

"Not at all."

* * *

Bulma stepped inside the elevator as another couple was leaving. Vegeta followed her inside and gave the people who were getting ready to follow him a stern eye. They stopped and let the door close. Bulma snickered when she noticed what Vegeta had done. "Stop scaring people away, Vegeta."

"Hn. What floor, woman?" he asked, moving towards the panel. Bulma held up all two fingers on her right hand and five one her left hand. Vegeta pressed the  _25_  on the panel and moved over to Bulma.

Bulma pulled him to her and he backed her up against the wall of the elevator. Their kiss from the party continued. Vegeta ran his hands down her sides. Bulma dropped her coat as he hoisted her up. Her legs wrapped around him and he held her against the wall with his body. His right hand ran up her leg and under her dress. Bulma's lips left his and she sighed out her pleasure while he teased her through her underwear. Vegeta watched her for a moment before slipping his finger beneath her underwear and into her core.

"Vegeta..." Bulma moaned. Her hands squeezed his shoulders and she tightened her legs around him.

The artist briefly thought about pushing he emergency stop and fucking her against the wall right then but the  _DING_  letting them know they arrived at the designated floor killed it. He removed his finger slowly, eliciting a long moan from Bulma. The door opened behind him.

"What room?" he whispered against her lips.

Bulma blinked, realizing Vegeta was talking to her. "The main suite at the end of the hall," she said. She bent down to pick up her coat. Vegeta grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of the elevator. Bulma giggles as she followed quickly after him. When they came to the door at the end of the hall, Vegeta looked at her expectantly. Bulma stared back blankly. Then she remembered and stepped in front of Vegeta.

While Bulma was going through her purse, she felt a warm hand running up the back of her leg. She sighed and fought the urge to lean back into Vegeta. His hand continued, traveling up and between her legs until it reach his prize. Bulma gasped when he slipped a finger under her lace underwear. He grazed her clit with one finger while sticking the other inside her.

"I need to concentrate..." Bulma faltered and leaned into him.

"Find the key or I won't stop, woman," Vegeta said in her ear.

Bulma looked down into her wristlet and finally found the keycard. She jammed it in the reader and the door unlocked. Vegeta chuckled as she struggled to get it open. Once it was open, he pushed her inside. Bulma turned around while he closed the door. The moment Vegeta faced her, she pounced.

* * *

Meanwhile, Frieza found himself rummaging around through Bulma's boudoir. He was in search of some rubbing alcohol. Apparently, Dodoria had thought it would be a gas to throw an empty bottle at Ginyu. Luckily the other man had only ended up with a few scratches on his arm. Frieza had already found the cotton balls. But the rubbing alcohol seemed elusive for some reason.

Zarbon stuck his head inside the bedroom and looked around. He saw the light coming from the boudoir and found Frieza searching around the room. "It smells positively feminine in here. What are you doing?" He walked further into the boudoir.

"Looking for some damn rubbing alcohol. Can't exactly have that fucking moron bleeding all around my house." Frieza sighed and stood up. He began moving around boxes and opening them. He came across a plastic container and opened it. A flash of silver caught his eye. Opening it further, he saw there were several plastic tubes inside. Curiosity won over and he pulled out the box.

Zarbon watched Frieza pull out the box and walked forward. He picked up one of the tubes and opened it. Frieza did the same and took out what was inside. "Bulma can draw too? You really picked a good one, Frieza," he said. He picked up another tube and opened it.

"These weren't drawn by Bulma," Frieza mumbled. He opened another tube. It was one of her playing the piano. Vegeta's initials were at the bottom of the page. "Our  _neighbor_  drew them."

"The one who she worked with?" Zarbon continued to go through them, oblivious to Frieza's growing ire. "He's not bad at this." Zarbon noticed Frieza's anger when the other man closed the box loudly and stood up. He stormed out of the room. Zarbon snickered to himself and followed his friend out.

* * *

Perhaps it was slight inebriation she was enduring, but Bulma was almost certain sex had never felt as good as it did now. She could not even bring herself to really make noise. All she could do was sigh and every now and then her breath would hitch. How long had Vegeta been slowly moving above her? When had he covered her completely with his body? His breath was tickling her neck but she could not find it in her to giggle at all. She just wrapped her arms around him, holding his as tight as she could.

Vegeta himself had made a small  _resolution_  when she had kissed him at the party. He'd resolved to make Bulma feel a way she never had. Every time he could feel her getting close to the end, he eased up and grew still. She would whine and squeeze him, but she would not complain after he kissed her, soothing her carnal concerns. Then he would begin again, taking her breath out of her so that all she could give him were weak squeaks and choked gasps.

"Bulma." Vegeta rose up on his hands. Bulma inhaled and looked at him. Even in the dim light, her eyes were still bright. Vegeta grabbed the headboard of the bed with his left hand.

She smiled. "My name sounds wonderful when it comes from you," she whispered.

Vegeta smirked down at her and picked up his pace. Holding back his own orgasm had been a task but now it was too much for him. Bulma grabbed on to his shoulders and closed her eyes. He watched her, fascinated with the sounds and faces she made while her passion took over. She tightened her legs around him and ran her nails down his chest. Vegeta lowered himself again and raced to his finish, wanting to reach it with her.

And when they did, it was glorious. He continued to move languidly until the pleasure ebbed away. She held him close and ran her hands up and down his back. It was intended to be a thought. It was not something she would have said to him at this stage if she was sober. But, she said it anyway.

"I think I may love you."


	10. Breaking Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter has a rather graphic scene and also an implied but not detailed nonconsensual situation.

He was starving.

That was the first thing that Vegeta thought when waking up on New Year's Day. He had not eaten much the night before. It had only been enough to keep him from hurling all the liquor he consumed back up. That was not nearly to satisfy his hearty appetite. He looked around him in the dim light of the hotel room. The blue-haired woman he'd spent the night with was curled up against his side, still asleep.

The other times that he had woken up next to her she was in the same position. Bulma had all the bed behind her while he was practically hanging off his side with her pressed up against him. Sighing, Vegeta tried to slip away from her. She seemed to realize his intention and got closer. He was an inch away from falling off the bed by now. Vegeta used that to his advantage and scooted off the bed in a controlled fall.

_Amazing. I'm learning new skills because of this woman_ , he thought with a roll of his eyes. He looked back at her to see she had not stirred. He shook his head and went in search of his clothes. As he bent for his socks, Vegeta's stomach growled in protest of its emptiness.  _Yeah, yeah. I'm going to find food_.

Once he was dressed, he gave Bulma one last glance before heading to the door. She was still asleep but her position had changed. Now she was rolled up in the sheets in the middle of the bed. Sighing, Vegeta grabbed the room key and exited.

* * *

Bulma woke suddenly. She squinted and looked around the dark room. The curtains were drawn but she could tell it was light out. She rolled over and glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was a little after noon. Then she realized something.

She was alone. She was alone and naked in a hotel room. Bulma sat up, gathering the covers around her body to stay warm. She remembered the night clearly. Everything had been so beautiful. She had never been made love to with such care. She shivered just thinking about how wonderful it left her feeling.

_It left me feeling good enough to get loose lips_ , she thought with a sigh. Bulma clearly remembered telling Vegeta that she loved him; that she was in love with him.  _And now I wake up alone_. She laid back down and pulled the sheets completely over herself. After a few minutes of silent brooding, she sat up and got out of the bed. With a sniff, Bulma marched to the bathroom and shut the door. When she returned, she was dressed in one of the orange hotel robes. The smell of food confused her and she walked back to the bedroom. Then she just paused.

Vegeta was sitting at the small table in the room. A brown paper bag sat in the middle. Vegeta had an incredibly large sub sitting in front of him. He was eating silently and swiftly. It took a moment for him to notice her. When he did, he just frowned. "It's about time you woke up," he said blandly. He took another bite out of his sandwich. Bulma still did not move. Vegeta shook his head. "I got you something, too." He motioned towards the bag.

Bulma blinked out of her stupor at the mention of food. She had not noticed it before, but she was starving. She made her way to the table and sat across from Vegeta. She reached into the bag and pulled out something wrapped in paper. She smiled when she realized it was a reuben sandwich. "You remembered," she said with a smile. When she unwrapped the sandwich, she giggled. "You remembered everything." The sandwich was dripping in dressing and there was extra sauerkraut.

Vegeta shrugged. "It wasn't difficult to remember."

Bulma shook her head and took a bite of the sandwich. "That's beside the point. You actually cared enough to remember. Thank you."

The artist saw her beaming at him and looked away quickly. He still found it captivating how she looked at him with such adoration. With a grunt in response, Vegeta went back to eating in silence. Bulma seemed content with it and ate almost as ravenously as he did. Clearly she had been hungry.

When she was done, Bulma leaned back in her chair and drank the bottled water Vegeta had brought for her. "That was so good," she whispered after drinking half the bottle. "But now I have to brush my teeth again. I'm glad this hotel gives complimentary hygiene products." She rose from her seat and shuffled back towards the bathroom.

Vegeta watched her go in silence. He needed to brush his teeth as well now that he thought about it. The aftertaste of his subs was strong; especially the onions. He got to his feet and followed after Bulma. When he opened the door to the bathroom, Bulma turned her head. A toothbrush hung out of her mouth and she seemed surprised to see him. She smiled again and stepped over to the side. She was finishing as began brushing next to her.

"Um, I guess I should go get dressed," Bulma quietly said and slipped out of the bathroom. She was walking around the room, searching for her clothes when Vegeta appeared behind her. She turned around and nearly screamed. "Don't do that! How do you move so quietly?"

"I don't. You're just so unaware of your surroundings that it's mildly disturbing," Vegeta retorted. Bulma rolled her eyes and walked around him. "Your fiancé expects you back?"

Bulma shook her head. "Not necessarily. He's most likely not even awake right now. Why?"

Vegeta nodded. "Hurry up and get dressed. Your buddy wants to drive out to see the Sons." He said it with a certain finality that did not leave it up for discussion. Bulma simply nodded and continued searching around for her clothes.

* * *

After another quick change at Juu's place, the foursome were on their way out of the city to the Son residence. It sat on a farm out in the countryside. Bulma was a little surprised at how far it was, considering Chichi made the trek into the city. She could also see why they elected not to drive when the weather was bad.

Vegeta sat in silence for most of the ride while Bulma and Juu did most of the talking with Krillyn interjecting every now and then. He stayed within his thoughts, thinking over what happened the previous night. That was not something he heard often or something he ever really expected to hear. Love was not a foreign concept to him. He had loved his mother dearly. He loved his brother in a way only an older brother can love a younger brother. Hell, Vegeta would even venture to say he loved his sperm donor. Vegeta Sr. was still his father, no matter how codgy he got.

He'd never tell any of them that, though. Vegeta supposed his actions would have to speak louder than his words.

But, Vegeta had never been  _in love_. The best examples he had to go off what that was like were the Sons and his parents. By how they interacted, one would never have guessed Vegeta Sr. worshipped the ground his wife had walked on. But, Vegeta had seen the little things Vegeta Sr. had done for and around his mother. He would bitch and moan about it, but he would never refuse her anything. The way his face would soften when she asked if she looked nice. Or the way he had looked at her whenever she interacted with their sons. And if those small moments were not enough, the immense despair and grief he exhibited once he found out his wife had not survived the accident would have changed anyone's mind. Both his sons were loath to admit it, but having Vegeta Sr. being his usual grouchy self nowadays was an improvement.

Chichi and Goku, however... Vegeta could not make heads or tails of their love story. Chichi was bossy and loud and she always seemed to be complaining about something. And Goku would seemingly just go along with whatever she said and give in to her incessant whining. Vegeta would have killed her and pleaded not guilty by reason of insanity at the trial by now. But somehow, that dysfunction worked for them. Vegeta knew he hated when they got all over each other around him. Gross.

One thing was clear, though. Bulma did not love Frieza and Vegeta was sure Frieza did not love her. Maybe Frieza loved the  _idea_  of her; what she stood for. Maybe he was even obsessed with her. Now knowing her background, it made even more sense why he remained with her. She was the heiress to a fortune she could never spend in her lifetime. But what was Bulma's motivation? She had the means to leave, but apparently not the fortitude. How did she even end up with someone like Frieza in her life? She had mentioned that her parents were against the relationship, yet she remained. It just made no sense at all to Vegeta.

The Bulma that Vegeta knew was not the Bulma that was around Frieza. It baffled him how she could be two completely different people. It was clear that she feared Frieza. She had said as much. She was scared to leave. But why? She had the means. She could get all the protection she needed. With the keys to his loft, she even had a place to go. So what kept her from just doing away with Frieza?

Stashing those questions away for later, Vegeta went back to his main point. Bulma was in love with him. Did he love her? He cared a great deal. But was that love? He remembered her face when she had seen him in the room that morning. She had looked surprised to see him there. Why? Did she think he would just leave her alone? Bulma had not brought up her post-coitus confession either. Vegeta was mildly surprised at that.

Maybe it was just the ramblings of a drunk woman high off the dopamine an orgasm supplies.

Something told Vegeta that was not true, though.

His thoughts came to a close when they finally arrived at the Son residence. The strangely shaped house sat alone just off a dirt road. Snow had been shoveled to reveal the driveway and walkway to the front door. The women scrambled up to the door while Krillyn paid the cab driver. Vegeta walked at his own pace towards the door. By the time he got there, Goku had already answered and let the women in.

"Hey, Vegeta! Hey, Krillyn! Get in here quick!" Goku yelled out. Vegeta rolled his eyes but Krillyn wasted no time rushing past him to the warmth of the house. Vegeta's pace did not change, but he eventually walked into the house.

The women were already chattering away. After taking everyone's coats, Goku gestured for Krillyn and Vegeta to follow him. They left the women in the dining area and went to the living room. A man who could easily pass for Goku himself was asleep on the couch. He was sitting straight up but there was a baby in his lap. Gohan was sitting up and staring at the TV.

"Okay, little guy. Let's let Grandpa sleep." Goku reached down for Gohan. A hand shot out to stop him. "But, Dad..."

"Leave him be. The boy is fine," the older Goku said, finally opening his eyes. He blinked a few times, taking in the sight of the visitors. "Ah, Vegeta. Good to see you, son. How goes your father?"

Vegeta shrugged and walked around Goku to take a seat across from his father, Bardock. " _Still alive_  is the best way to describe him," he answered.

Bardock gave a hearty chuckle. "It was decided long before you were born that Vegeta would outlive his grandchildren. But has  _he_  been doing fine?"

Vegeta caught his meaning easily enough. "He is back to being an old grumpy man, if that's what you're asking. Tarble and I are once again failures. He has become soft in his old age, though."

"Oh? Why do you say that?"

"He spoils his grandsons rotten. I'm not yet sure if it's because he wants to or if it's just to spite Gure," Vegeta said, appearing thoughtful. He would have to ask his brother that later.

Bardock nodded and noticed the other newcomer. "Krillyn! Haven't seen you in ages, son."

"That's because Goku lives out in no man's land," Krillyn said, stepping forward to shake Bardock's hand. He sat down next to him and relaxed back. "How've you been?"

"Trying to get used to this  _retirement_  thing. It doesn't feel right not working. So much free time. Gine is trying to get me into all these different activities like golfing."

Goku sat down hard next to Vegeta, bouncing the older man slightly. Vegeta growled low and glared at Goku out of the side of his eye. The younger man pretended not to notice. "From what she says it's because you won't leave her alone at home. Dad, we all know you could've gone another ten years working, but you've earned this time off," Goku said.

Bardock waved his hand flippantly and looked down at the baby in his lap. "Bah! Maybe I'll go drag Vegeta out of his prison one of these days and see what shenanigans we can get into. So have you found yourself a girl yet, Vegeta? I'm still waiting on my oldest to bring home one he didn't meet in a dark alley."

Vegeta raised an eyebrow. Why was everyone suddenly concerned with his love life? He had never fielded so many questions about it. Everyone knew he did not date. It's not like he was old. "No."

"Really?" Bardock gave him an intense stare for a few seconds. Then he looked away. "You're lying. You have the same look in your eye that your father had when he first saw Anzu. So out with it. What's her name?"

"I don't know what you're ta..."

"Who wants hot cocoa!" Chichi came into the room carrying a tray holding steaming cups. Gine, Goku's mother, followed behind her carrying one as well. Bulma and Juu had been relegated to carrying the napkins and marshmallows, respectively. After everything was passed out and the ladies were seated, Vegeta found himself sandwiched between Bulma and Chichi. "So what were you all talking about in here?"

Bardock passed Gohan to Gine and picked up his own cup of cocoa. "I was getting to the bottom of that  _look_  in Vegeta's eye." He nodded in the younger man's direction. Vegeta glared daggers at him, but the senior was immune. "What do you think, Gine?"

Gine looked at Vegeta as well. "Just like when his father met Anzu. It's uncanny how much he looks like that man. Like a little clone, but cuter."

Bulma snorted in her cup. "If he looks just like his father, how could he be cuter?"

Gine shrugged. "Something about him is just... cuter. Big Vegeta is all mean and scary while Little Vegeta is cute and cuddly. In comparison, at least. You should've seen him when he was a baby. He was just a ball of fat with wild hair. Cheeks for days."

Bulma looked at Vegeta, who was hiding his face behind his cup. "Is that so? I might have to track down these pictures one day. You know, it amazes me that we've always had the Sons as mutual friends but we didn't meet until a few months ago."

"We moved around a lot when I was young. Didn't really become stable until I was in middle school. By then, Kakarrot and I mostly ran in different circles," Vegeta said.

"Pfft. You still managed to hang out with Raditz, though," Goku murmured. Everyone looked at him. He sounded rather salty about that fact. "You guys always said I was too young. I'm only a year younger than you."

"But Goku, every time you hung out with Raditz, what happened?" Bulma looked at him with raised eyebrows. Goku sighed and sulked. "My point exactly. I love Raditz but he's always been a bad influence."

Gine shook her head. "I don't know where we went wrong with that one," she said with a sigh.

"What? Woman, he's just like you!" Bardock exclaimed. "He gets his wild streak from you. Have you forgotten everything from before Raditz was born? Hell, do you remember how Raditz was conceived?"

Chichi loudly cleared her throat. "I think we should change the subject."

"Yeah. I, for one, am not interested in hearing about how sordid Raditz's conception might have been," Krillyn agreed.

Gine looked putout. "It wasn't so bad. All we did was..."

* * *

Bulma walked in the brownstone several hours later. She was surprised to see it mostly dark except for the light Puella usually left on for her. She locked the door behind her and headed towards the stairs. When she got to her bedroom, she was confused by its emptiness. Frieza hadn't said anything about going out with his friends that night. She had been almost sure he would be waiting up for her, especially since she had not contacted him all day. She decided just to call him, but first she would shower.

After her shower, Bulma pulled on an oversized sweatshirt and checked her phone to see that she still had no messages. Still a bit concerned, she dialed Frieza's number while heading downstairs. She heard Frieza's ringtone when she got to the landing. It was coming from the dining room. Bulma ended the call as she entered the dining room. She had not noticed the dimmed lights coming from the room when she'd gotten home.

Frieza was sitting at the far end of the dining table. A bottle of whiskey and a glass was on his right. There were also a stack of papers in front of him. Bulma smiled a bit and entered the room.

"I didn't know you were home. Why didn't you say anything when I came in?" She began approaching him. Frieza looked up at her. He drank what was left in his glass and filled it up again. Bulma raised an eyebrow when she noticed the bottle was almost empty. "How much have you had to drink tonight? Did you eat? I know you probably drank your friends under the table last night. That can't be good for your liver."

Frieza took a long swig of the brown liquid and then looked up at Bulma. "I'm fine. Puella made me dinner before she left. Where have you been all day?"

"I went to see Goku and Chichi with Juu. You shouldn't read in the dark, Frieza. It'll strain your..." Bulma trailed off when she realized what was on the papers in front of him. She stopped a few feet from him. "Where did you get those?"

Frieza's relatively blank look turned into one of vague amusement. "Where do you think I got them?"

Bulma narrowed her eyes. "Why were you going through my things?" She stepped forward to gather the drawings Vegeta had given her. Frieza grabbed hold of her wrist and she froze. "Let go of me, Frieza," she said. Frieza's response was to squeeze her wrist and pull her forward. Bulma stumbled forward and ended up leaning over him in an awkward position.

Frieza picked up a drawing with his free hand. It was one Bulma's profile while she had been playing. "He's not bad at this. Very lifelike. Don't you agree?" He thrust the picture in her face. "How many of these did you pose for?"

"I don't pose for any of them. Vegeta draws mostly from his memory." Bulma tried to pull away from Frieza. To her surprise, he let her go. She stood up straight, rubbing her wrist. Frieza seemed to keep forgetting that her wrist was already injured.

"Pfft. His memory?" Frieza watched as Bulma started to gather the drawings up again. "Why were you hiding them?"

"I wasn't hiding them, Frieza," Bulma said with a sigh. She could see him finish his drink out of the corner of her eye. She knew he was drunk. He was  _quiet_  drunk. He was far too calm for her liking. She swallowed slowly and picked up the stacked papers. Just as she turned to go, Frieza grabbed her around her waist and pulled her back into him. "Frieza..."

Frieza stood up and held Bulma against him. She tried to wiggle away from him but he just tightened his arm. He buried his face in her neck and inhaled. "I don't like you spending so much time with him," he mumbled. "I don't like you spending so much time with any of them."

The pianist sighed. "We were just working, Frieza. He's just a friend."

"I said I don't like you spending so much time with him."

Bulma pushed him away and turned to face him. He looked genuinely surprised that she'd managed to get away from him. "You sound like a child, Frieza. I work with Vegeta. I'm not you. I don't fuck my coworkers."

There was a heavy silence following that. Bulma had not meant to say those last two sentences out loud but her exasperation with Frieza had reached its breaking point. Saying them made her feel a bit like a hypocrite since it was a lie. But she was irritated and tired.

"You think I fuck my coworkers?" Frieza asked with a smirk.

"Frieza, everyone knows you fuck your coworkers. So you are in no position to say anything about what I do with who I work with. And as I said before, nothing is going on with us." Bulma turned away from him and started to walk away. Again, Frieza grabbed her and turned her around. But this time he smacked her before she could protest.

Bulma retaliated before she could process the thought of doing so. She dropped the drawings and smacked Frieza back with all her might. Her right hand stung something fierce, not to mention the agonizing reminder that her wrist was sprained. The look on his face was completely worth the pain, though. Somehow, she felt a small sense of triumph.

Frieza put two fingers in his mouth. When he took them out, there was blood on them. He'd bitten down on the inside of his cheek. He stared back his fingers for a moment and then looked at Bulma. "You hit me," he stated plainly. There was no readable emotion behind it. He was just dully stating a fact.

Bulma blinked when she heard Frieza speak. The gravity of what she'd just done hit her and fear replaced the satisfaction she had. She tried to move away but Frieza took hold of her by her hair. "Frieza, let me..."

It took a moment for Bulma to realize she was on the floor. Frieza had not slapped her. He had  _punched_  her. He had never  _punched_  her before. She felt blood run from her nose. She turned over to see Frieza hovering over her. She reached up to push him away but he smacked her hands away and punched her again. Bulma was dizzy for a moment and tried to speak.

Frieza pinned her arms above her head with one hand and leaned down to her face. "I didn't think you fighting me back would be such a turn on, Bulma," he said.

The pianist did not like the look in Frieza's eyes one bit. She fought to free her hands but it was like he had superhuman strength. "Please let me go, Frieza," she whispered. Her face hurt too much to do much else. "Please..." Bulma didn't get anything else out because Frieza smashed his lips against hers in a  _kiss_. When it was over, Bulma's lips hurt and she sputtered at the taste of the spicy whiskey.

Frieza released his hold on her hands and Bulma immediately started to swing at him. Frieza hit her again, momentarily stunning her. During that time, he stood and pulled her up. "Let's go," he said, pulling her along by her hair.

Bulma tripped over her feet when Frieza pushed her into their bedroom. She fell at the foot of the bed, barely missing hitting her head on the footboard. She turned around and saw Frieza finishing off the bottle of whiskey. He sat the empty bottle down and stalked over to her. He yanked her to her feet and pushed her down on the bed. Bulma kicked and swung at him as he climbed on top of her. Frieza hit her swiftly in the throat. Bulma coughed and reached for her neck.

"If you'd be still this could go so much smoother." Frieza used his knee to spread her legs.

It suddenly dawned on her what he was about to do to her. "Frieza, please don't," Bulma pleaded, her voice raspy from being hit in her throat. For a moment, Frieza stopped moving and looked down at her. "Please, Frieza. Don't."

"Yes." He laid down on top of her. "Beg me some more."

"Frieza stop! Get off me!" Bulma continued to struggle beneath him even after he forced himself into her. "It hurts! Stop!"

"I said hold still!" Frieza beat on her more but she continued to fight. It was not until he hit her so hard that she blacked out that she stopped.

* * *

When Bulma came to, every inch of her ached. She could not see very well and even opening her mouth hurt. She turned her head and saw that Frieza was beside her, asleep. Bulma moved the sheet covering her and sat up. She winced at the aches and pains, but eventually got to her feet. She moved silently across the room to the bathroom. Once inside, she quietly shut the door and leaned against it. After a few moments, she turned on the light and looked up into the mirror.

Just looking at herself hurt. Her upper lip was swollen, as was her left eye. That explained why her eyesight appeared distorted. There was dried blood on her nose. Bulma hesitantly touched it. There was soreness, but it wasn't broken. Bulma took off her sweatshirt. With the exception of her arms and neck, the rest of her body was okay. Sighing, she turned away from the mirror and went to turn on the shower.

When she returned to the bedroom, Frieza was leaning against the wall next to the door. Startled, Bulma froze in mid-step. Frieza faced her completely and looked at her. He took hold of her chin to hold her in place while he examined her face. Bulma just watched him silently.

"It's probably best if you stay here for the next few days," he said, lowering his hand.

Bulma stepped away from him. "Afraid to show the world your handiwork?"

Frieza smirked. "Well do you want people seeing you in this way?" He asked. Bulma said nothing and he kissed her forehead. "I'll tell Puella she can have the weekend off." He turned to leave the room.

Bulma went inside her boudoir and sat at her vanity. After a shower to wash the previous night's  _events_  off of her, she had held a cold towel to her face. She was paler than before and the bruises stuck out more. But the swelling had gone down some on her eye and lips. She didn't look so much like a monster. But she knew no one could see her like this. At least not until the swelling was gone. Makeup could cover everything else.

_I should go to Juu's. Or Chichi's_ , she thought. She then remembered Vegeta's loft. Frieza did not know about it. It was the only safe place for her. The only one Frieza would not be able to find. Now, all she had to do was figure out how to get away.

The answer came simply enough when Bulma noticed the mess Frieza left from rummaging around in her things. Her entire medicine bin had been turned out. Bandages, ointment, cold medicine, pain medicine... He'd just left it all strewn across the floor behind her vanity. It was no wonder he'd found the stash of Vegeta's drawings. Among the bottles of pills, Bulma caught sight of one she had not used in a while: a bottle of Ambien. She grabbed for it and shook it. There were only a few left.

_All I need_.

* * *

Around noon, Bulma came downstairs quietly. She heard the TV on, but nothing else. She walked to the living room as slowly and quietly as possible. When she got there, she leaned against the wall and peaked inside. Frieza was sitting on the couch, leaning back. He was fast asleep. Or, at least he appeared that way. Bulma knocked on the wall a few times. No response. Frieza did not even flinch. Then she walked inside and over to Frieza. He was so still that it slightly worried her. Glancing at the glass near him, she saw that he had downed the entire mug of eggnog. She had given him nonalcoholic eggnog, but knowing him, he'd probably added gin or something.

"What if..." Bulma put a hand over his face. He was still breathing.

_But would you really be sad if he wasn't?_

The pianist shook her head. "That's a terrible thing to think," she whispered. She shook her head and stood up straight. "Though, after last night I think I've earned the right to fantasize." She stared down at him for a few more seconds. It took more will than she thought it ever would for her to walk away from possibly smothering him with one of the decorative pillows on the couch. Instead, she headed back upstairs and grabbed the bag she had packed. She put on a skullie and wrapped a scarf around her face.

Bulma chanced a glance back inside the living room as she passed. She noticed the fireplace was going. Pausing, she thought better of leaving it on while no one was conscious in the house. She walked over to the fireplace and shut the gas off. As she was turning away, she noticed a torn piece of paper on the floor. She looked on top of the gas logs and saw the remnants of burnt paper. She picked up the lone piece and saw that it had Vegeta's signature on it.

The son of a bitch had burned every single picture Vegeta had drawn for her.

Turning around quickly, Bulma glared at Frieza's sleeping form through watery eyes. She picked up one of the pillows on the couch. She squeezed it, ignoring the pain it caused her wrist. Stepping forward, she held it up and over Frieza. After a solid minute, she tossed the pillow to the side. She sank to her knees and allowed her tears to run over.

"I hate you," she whispered. She looked up at the sleeping Frieza. " _I FUCKING HATE YOU SO MUCH_!" she screamed. She furiously wiped the tears from her swollen face and got to her feet. She briefly contemplated slapping him, but again thought better of it. Instead, she hawked the biggest loogie she could at him and it landed on his face. Childish? Yes. But it made her feel better for the moment.

Bulma grabbed her bag and left the brownstone.

* * *

Juu had been all too ecstatic when Bulma had called and said she left Frieza. It had felt like the perfect beginning to the new year. She'd immediately told Bulma to tell her where she was. The pianist had done so and Juu swore she had never made it across the city so fast. She did not have time to marvel at how nice Vegeta's spare loft was. Instead, she was busy staring at the blue-haired woman sitting on a beanbag. What should have been a triumphant moment was more of a nightmare.

"Juu, please stop looking at me like that. I don't need to be reminded that I look like something out of a horror film," Bulma murmured.

The blonde's right eye twitched a few times. She shook her head and looked away from Bulma. She glanced around and noticed a place for her to hang her coat. She did so and walked over to Bulma. She kneeled down in front of the pianist and waited for the other woman to look at her. When she finally did, Juu gave her a small smirk. "I'm proud of you," she said.

"Why? In case you hadn't noticed, I clearly lost the  _fight_ ," Bulma said, her tone full of self-loathing.

"I'm proud of you for leaving. I'm sorry it had to come to... this. But, I'm proud nonetheless. Now I don't know about you, but I wanna put this bastard behind bars." Juu whipped out her phone.

Bulma raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"I'm taking pictures for evidence of what a monster he is. Is that okay?" Juu asked. She saw the apprehension in Bulma's expression. She was clearly ashamed of her current state. "Listen. You didn't do this to yourself and it's only temporary. It isn't your fault. It's his fault. Just let me get a few pictures of the worst injuries. We can get an order of protection or something this way," she said. Bulma sighed and nodded. Juu moved back a little as Bulma unwrapped herself from the blankets she'd surrounded herself with. The sight of her only got Juu's blood boiling again. However, she remained quiet.

Bulma could see the anger in Juu's eyes. She was happy that the other woman was not expressing it. The last 18 hours had been hell on Bulma. She really just needed to decompress. "He burned them all," she whispered.

Juu put her phone away and sat back down. "Burned what?"

"Everything." Bulma lowered her head and ran her fingers through her hair. "Everything he did for me. That fucking bastard just destroyed it all." She closed her fists in her hair and pulled. Just thinking about the dying embers where the burned drawings were made her want to scream. Instead, she swallowed her voice looked up at Juu.

Juu was growing more and more worried for Bulma by the second. "What did he burn?" she asked again.

Bulma shook her head, still pulling at her hair. "This hair..." She remembered how Frieza had dragged her by it. He once told her that he liked her hair long. So she kept it long to make him happy. "This hair..." Bulma got to her feet and stormed past Juu.

The blonde watched with slightly wide eyes as Bulma tore through the kitchenette's counter drawers. She rummaged through them, pulling out restaurant menus and old mail. She finally came to what she had been looking for: scissors. They were actually shears, but they would do. Juu realized what Bulma was about to do and moved quickly towards her. She was too late.

Bulma started wildly cutting her hair. "He liked it long. I never liked having long hair. I always kept it short before I met him. Always," she mumbled. When she was finished, she dropped the shears. Her long waves of blue were now all around her feet. She was sure the cut was a mess, but that was the last thing on her mind. She looked back up at Juu, who was just watching her.

"Not exactly how I would've gone about doing it, but whatever makes you happy," Juu said with a shrug.

Bulma nodded. "Yes. Yes, this made me happy. And tired." She walked past Juu and headed up the stairs. "I'm just going to sleep for a little while," she said quietly.

Juu glanced down at Bulma's cut hair. Sighing, she gathered it up and threw it away. She cleaned up the mess of the drawers Bulma had made. When she was done, she headed up the stairs. There was only a bed, so it was easy enough to find Bulma. She had thrown herself down on the bed. Juu looked down at her. Bulma's head had sunken into the pillows and she was softly snoring. The pianist really had been tired.

_Or that sudden adrenaline rush took it out of her_ , Juu thought. She examined the hack job Bulma had made of her hair and smirked.  _I suppose I'll need to call someone to clean that up. But first_... Juu turned away and pulled out her phone again. She had a few calls to make.

* * *

Vegeta had been mildly pleased when Juu called him to tell him Bulma was at his loft. Pleased, but a little worried as well. Juu's tone had not been very comforting. The agent had sounded more pensive than relieved. She had just asked him to watch over Bulma for the rest of the day and night. To make sure she did not doing anything to herself. Vegeta was a bit concerned about what that meant but had not asked for her to explain.

He was a little surprised when he came through the elevator to see that Bulma was nowhere to be seen on the lower level. Her coat was hanging up and there was a rather large tote bag on the floor near the beanbags. Her boots were also next to the bag. That only left one place for her to be. Vegeta gathered up her things and headed upstairs.

Bulma was still sleeping soundly when Vegeta found her on the bed. Somehow, her appearance did not come as a shock to him. This was why Juu had sounded the way she did. He sat down on the bed gently to examine her further. It was bad, but he was sure it had looked much worse earlier. Her eye was still swollen and black. Vegeta could make out the fingerprints on her neck. Then came the sight of her hair. Before he could stop himself, Vegeta was running his hand through the blue chaos that was left of her hair.

"I cut it myself."

Vegeta retracted his hand at the sound of her whisper. He looked back in her face to see her looking up at him. "You did a terrible job," he said with all the emotion of a rock.

Bulma snorted and slowly sat up. It seemed that every time she rested, the aches and pains would return tenfold. "Yeah? It was a spur of the moment thing. But I don't regret it. I like having short hair," she said. "What are you doing here?"

"This is my loft, Bulma," came the short reply.

"I know that. I just didn't... Did you say my name?"

"It is the name you received at birth."

"Are you purposely being a smart ass right now?"

"How is stating facts being a smart ass?"

"Stop being obtuse."

"I'm not."

Bulma narrowed her good eye at him. Then she looked away. After a few moments, she smiled and chuckled. "That was an interesting chat. But seriously, did Juu send you?"

"And if she did?"

"I didn't want you to see me looking like I went ten rounds with the heavyweight champ, whoever that may be."

Vegeta frowned for a moment. "It's not your fault you look the way you do and you shouldn't be ashamed of it. What I do need is for you to give me one good reason why I shouldn't go back to your house and feed your fiancé his fucking nuts."

It amazed Bulma how Vegeta could say things like that and sound completely dispassionate about it. It was truly a talent and one she wished to possess. "He's not my fiancé anymore. Or at least he won't be after I get Juu to cancel everything. And he's probably still knocked out anyway. I spiked his eggnog with sleeping pills, which he then probably mixed with alcohol. I'll be surprised if he wakes up anytime soon. Fucking prick."

Vegeta watched her scoot to the headboard of the bed and pull the covers up around her face. "So what made this time different?" he asked.

Bulma remained silent for a moment. She needed to think about how she could describe what finally broke the camel's back this time around. "That brownstone belongs to my family, but almost nothing about it is mine anymore. Even my piano has been tainted by him. Then I had something for me. All the drawings you made me. Something was mine again. He was angry last night because he found them. And before I left, I saw that he had burned them. Every last one."

Vegeta could see she was getting ready to cry. "I can make you new drawings, Bulma."

"That's not the point, Vegeta!" Bulma shook her head. "They were  _MINE_. They were gifts from you. I couldn't have anything because of him. Time. Friends. A life. Everything revolved around him!" She took a deep breath to calm down. "I hit him back last night."

"You did?" Vegeta raised an eyebrow and she nodded. "I can imagine that did not go over well."

Bulma shook her head. "Understatement. He actually punched me after that. Punched me, pulled my hair, and..." She trailed off while waving her hand. "I'm so tired, Vegeta."

"Then sleep. I'm not going anywhere," Vegeta said. He saw her give him that same smile again. Her eyes remained sad, though. She reached forward and hugged him. Vegeta wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her up. She started trembling in his grasp and he knew she was crying. So he let her.

* * *

A grating and persistent buzzing noise pulled Vegeta from his slumber. It was early. When had he fallen asleep? He looked around and saw that he was still in his clothes and not even under the sheets. Once again, Bulma was curled up against him. This time her head rested on his chest. She still clutching his shirt in her hand. The buzzing was brought back to the forefront of Vegeta's mind and he looked at the clock hanging across the room. It was not even 8am yet. Who the hell could it be?

"You should go answer that," Bulma mumbled from his chest.

"I would if a certain woman would get off me," Vegeta retorted.

Bulma smirked, still holding her eyes closed. "But you're so comfortable. I didn't know muscles could be so soft," she said. She laughed when she heard Vegeta growl and move her off of him. "It's true. You're like a big cuddly..."

" _GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE, BULMA!_ "


	11. Confront

_Frieza awoke suddenly. He fell off the couch he was on, nearly missing the coffee table. His sat up against the couch and shook his head to try to get some of the fogginess out of it. After a few moments, he opened his eyes again and looked around. With the exception of a little light coming through the curtains, it was dark in the room. The TV was off and the fireplace had died down. Frieza narrowed his eyes._

_The fireplace is gas. Someone had to turn it off, he thought. He slowly pulled himself to his feet. The world spun for a moment but he maintained his posture. Frieza turned and left the living room. The rest of the brownstone was still dark except for the natural light from windows._

_"Bulma!" Frieza yelled. He started up the stairs, taking them two at a time. When he got the their bedroom, he threw the door open. The room was clean. There was no sign of the mess that had been made the previous day. The sheets had even been changed. Frieza went over to her boudoir and saw that it also had been cleaned up. The bathroom was empty. There was no sign of Bulma at all._

_Moving over to the nightstand, Frieza noticed Bulma's phone was not there. Neither was her charger. Frowning, he glanced around and saw her purse was also nowhere to be found. The frown deepened and he left the room. Just as he suspected, her house keys, which she usually left hanging on a hook in the kitchen, were gone. He was alone in the brownstone and had slept through it all._

_Frieza found his own phone and checked it. There were no missed calls or messages. He shuffled through his contacts until he got to the right one. It rang until the voicemail picked up. Frieza did not bother to leave a message and instead hung up. He dialed another number. After three rings, it was answered. Without waiting for a greeting, Frieza spoke._

_"She's gone."_

* * *

All the color had drained out of Bulma's already pale face. She sat up, taking the covers with her. "How did he find me? He shouldn't know where this place is," she whispered. She looked over at Vegeta. He was still sitting on the bed but staring straight ahead. "Vegeta?"

Vegeta got to his feet. "Stay up here. Don't make any noise," he said.

"Vegeta? Vegeta, what are you doing? Frieza can't know you're here or that this is your place," Bulma warned. She watched Vegeta stretch and walk towards the bathroom. "Vegeta? Are you listening to me? What are you going to do?"

"First, I'm going to take a piss and brush my teeth. Then, I'm going to tell your  _fiancé_  to get the fuck off my property," the artist said. He disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door.

Bulma leaned back against the headboard of the bed. She turned her head to the right to look out the large windows. It had never dawned on her that anyone who bothered to look could see everything that went on in the upper part of the loft. She scooted back away from it to be sure she was out of sight from anyone standing on the street. She could hear Frieza still yelling outside for her. Bulma brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs.

Vegeta exited the bathroom naked and looking refreshed. He walked over to the lone chest and opened one of the drawers. Bulma watched him get dressed in a Henley and sweatpants. How many pairs of sweatpants did he own? He sat down on the bed with his back to Bulma and started pulling on socks. Frowning, Bulma crawled forward until she was beside him.

"What are you going to do?" she asked again.

Vegeta looked at her as he finished putting on his last sock. "Exactly what I said I was going to do. Call your friend and don't move." He got up and descended the steps at a leisurely pace. Bulma watched Vegeta until she saw him get into the elevator. Then she went to find her phone.

Frieza opened his mouth to yell for Bulma again but was stopped by the door to the building opening. He narrowed his eyes when he saw Vegeta standing there. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"A better question is what are you doing here at the crack of dawn, yelling for a woman like a drunken madman? This is usually a quiet street. I wouldn't be surprised if someone hasn't already called the cops on you," Vegeta said.

Frieza scoffed and shrugged. "Let them. Where is Bulma? Send her out here now."

"No. She won't be going anywhere with you. Not now and not ever again." Vegeta leaned against the door panel and crossed his arms. "Either you can walk away of your own volition or I can make you," he said.

* * *

Bulma had her cell on speaker while it rang. She sat by the window and watched Vegeta confront Frieza. She was surprised at how quiet they were being. She could barely hear anything they were saying; a far contrast to Frieza yelling earlier. Bulma could only see Frieza and he was rather calm considering who he was talking to and why. She was so engrossed in watching them that she had not noticed Juu answering the phone.

" _Hello? Bulma, are you there?_ "

"Uh, yeah! I'm here. Juu, he found me," Bulma answered. "How did he find me? He shouldn't know where this place is!" There was a long silence. "Juu?"

" _Bulma, look at your phone. Go to the text message thread you have with Frieza_ ," Juu said. Her voice was strangely calm.

Bulma put Juu on speakerphone and did as she was told. "What about it?" she asked.

" _Go into the info tab. Are you sharing your location?_ "

Again, Bulma did as she was told. Sure enough, she was indeed sharing her location. The map showed exactly where she was. She frowned and pressed  _stop sharing my location_. "That asshole has been tracking me. This whole time he has been keeping tabs on where I've been," she said, her voice barely audible. She heard Juu sigh from her end of the line.

" _Is Vegeta still there?_ "

"Yeah. He went outside to talk to Frieza." Bulma moved back over to the window to try and see what they were doing. They were only talking and both seemed relatively calm. Bulma almost preferred them to be screaming and yelling at one another. At least then she could gauge the situation a bit better without hearing them if they were animated. "It doesn't look like much is going on. They're just... talking. It's weird. I would think Frieza would've thrown a punch by now."

" _I take it you can't hear them. Has Frieza seen you?_ "

"Not from where I am. Juu, I really didn't want to get Vegeta involved in this. Frieza is only after me but he still has no idea what went on between us. You don't think Vegeta will tell him, do you?"

" _No, Vegeta probably won't... unprovoked. I highly doubt he'd lie if Frieza asked, though. Honestly, if Frieza hasn't figured it out by now then I don't see the point_ ," Juu answered, sounding as lackadaisical as ever. " _Listen. I'm on my way. Stay where you are_." She hung up.

Bulma clutched her phone to her chest and continued watching the two men. Juu told her not to move. Vegeta told her not to move. If she was honest with herself, she did not want to move, either. If Frieza got to her, she was unsure exactly what he would do.  _It couldn't get much worse than it did last time, could it?_  She sat there for a few seconds more before looking down at her phone. She dialed another number.

* * *

Frieza's patience was running thin. He had no idea that Vegeta's was nearly gone as well. The two had only been trading witty barbs for the past five minutes but that was not what he had come for. "Why are you so protective over her anyway? She isn't your woman." he said.

"Why are you so possessive? Is she not allowed to have friends?" Vegeta shot back at him. He had given Frieza no straight answers since they'd started talking. Most had been met with a question.

Frieza's eye twitched. "She has friends. I just don't like her being around you."

"So you hit her to drive that point home? She also told me you burned the pictures I drew for her. Are you that insecure in your relationship with her? You act like you think I'm fucking her," Vegeta said.

"Are you?"

Vegeta's face remained expressionless for a few seconds after Frieza asked the question. Then he smirked. "No. I'm not  _fucking_  her. I'm sure she's told you this before and you have ignored it every time, but we're just friends."

Frieza had not missed the emphasis Vegeta had put on  _fucking_. Still, the man did not strike him as the type to lie. It still did not let Bulma off the hook. He had the sneaking suspicion that she drugged him in order to leave. He had barely put any extra alcohol in his eggnog. It had hardly been enough to even taste. Yes, she had definitely drugged him somehow. But with what?

"It doesn't matter. Tell Bulma to get her ass out here now or I'll do it myself," Frieza said.

The artist raised a dark eyebrow. "I'd like to see you try. She isn't going anywhere with you. Now..."

"Leave, Frieza." Both Frieza and Vegeta turned to see Bulma come through the door. Bulma tried to step past Vegeta, but he put his arm up to keep her behind him.

"I'm not leaving without you," Frieza said calmly.

"And why would I go anywhere with you? Especially after what you did last night? No."

"I've smacked you around before and you've never run away. Are you mad that I got rid of those stupid pictures? Just ask your friend to draw you some more," Frieza said with a wave of his hand.

"I didn't run away. I  _left_." Bulma shook her head. "I can't believe you can say  _smacking me around_  so cavalierly. And that pissed me off royally, but that isn't why I left. I'm not going to be your punching bag anymore and I damn sure am not going to be your wife. I'm giving you two days. I want you out of my house."

"Bulma, you can't..."

"I can and I am. My family's name is on that deed. So, get everything you own and leave. If you're not out when I come back, I'm calling the police." Bulma stared at him hatefully for a few more seconds. Then she turned on her heel and went back inside.

Vegeta watched her go until the door closed. Then he turned his attention back to Frieza. The other man looked positively irate; so much so that it almost made him seem... demonic. Vegeta said nothing else and turned his back on Frieza to follow Bulma's lead. He found Bulma waiting in the elevator. She was leaning against the wall, looking like all the life had been drained from her. Vegeta silently closed the elevator and started it. As it went up, Vegeta walked over and leaned against the wall next to her.

Bulma turned her head to look at Vegeta. He was looking straight ahead but appeared thoughtful. "I know how he found me," she said, breaking the silence. Vegeta simply grunted to let her know he was listening. She reached in her pocket and pulled out her phone. "I was  _sharing my location_  with him. The prick has been keeping tabs on me."

"Did he often ask where you've been?" Vegeta moved forward when the elevator came to a stop. He opened the gate and Bulma walked past him.

"Yes. Why?" She settled down on a beanbag.

Vegeta went to the kitchenette instead. He shuffled around, looking for something. "He wanted to see if you would lie to him."

Bulma chuckled. "I never did. I never lied except about what I was doing. Did he badger you again about our friendship?"

The artist frowned when he found an old bag of coffee. He chucked it in the trash. Vegeta mentally decided that if he was going to keep the loft then he was going to have to keep it stocked with at least coffee. He walked over to Bulma and sat down in the other beanbag. "Of course he asked. I told him we weren't fucking."

Bulma stared at him. "So you lied to him."

"I did no such thing." Vegeta relaxed back in the beanbag. "Do you think we were fucking?" he asked.

Bulma remained silent and confused for a moment. When she was about to respond, her phone started ringing. She looked down at it and saw it was Juu calling. "Juu?"

" _Yeah I'm outside. Buzz me up_."

Minutes later, Bulma and Vegeta were drinking coffee and eating doughnuts that Juu had brought with her. Juu had taken Bulma to the upper level to talk. That left Vegeta staring at the television while scarfing down doughnuts. The volume was low enough for him to eavesdrop on the women upstairs.

Juu watched Bulma gingerly chew on a doughnut. The swelling on Bulma's face was gone for the most part but the bruises were still quite prevalent. Juu's rage sparked every time she looked at her friend. "So we need to go visit the court to see about getting a restraining order," she said suddenly.

Bulma looked up from her doughnuts. "We can try," she mumbled.

The blonde frowned. "What do you mean  _try_? Is there some reason they wouldn't grant you an order of protection? One look at you should be proof enough that he doesn't need to be anywhere near you."

"Even if I was to get the order, Frieza would violate it anyway."

"And... then he'd go to jail."

Bulma shook her head. "Not if his brother has anything to say about it. Frieza is an asshole, but he's a well-connected asshole. His brother would never let him sit in jail or be charged with a crime. Best lawyer in the city, remember?"

Juu sighed. She'd forgotten Frieza even had a brother. "Well, we're still getting the order. Do you think Frieza will leave the brownstone?"

"Yes, I do." Bulma nearly laughed at Juu's incredulous look. "He will. That does not mean he'll stay away, though. He'll skulk off to some hotel or his father's place to lick his wounds. Then he'll be back and madder than a hornet." She finished her doughnut and looked out the window.

"Well, then what will you do until everything is in place?"

Bulma stared out the window at the melting snow for a few moments in silence. "I need to leave. I'm just really exhausted. I need..."

"You need to heal. But I understand the need for a getaway. Where do you want me to send you?"

"Nowhere. I mean, I'll go somewhere. I'm just not going to tell you."

Juu was a little put out by Bulma's secretiveness but she did not let it show. She could understand Bulma's need to take time to herself. "Well, it might be a few weeks before you can disappear. Once we file for that order then we have to go to a hearing. After that, you can leave. You have to be back for the premiere, though."

Bulma frowned. She had forgotten all about the ballet premiere. It was the first week of April so that gave her 3 months.  _A three month vacation. But to where?_  She thought about plausible destinations, but only one really sounded appealing to her. Then she realized that Juu was still talking to her.

"What?"

The blonde rolled her eyes. "I said you need to call me at least three days before you return so that I can have everything ready for you. I know how you'd like to just roll up to the theater in your pajamas but it won't photograph well. Now that I think about it, I should probably find someone to fix that disaster at the top of your head."

"You don't like it?" Bulma playfully ran a hand through her haphazardly chopped blue locks. "Vegeta likes it. I told him I cut it and he said it looked like I did."

"I don't think that was a compliment, Bulma."

Juu left not long after the doughnuts were gone, leaving Bulma and Vegeta alone in the loft. Bulma plopped down next to Vegeta, who had not moved from his spot since Juu came over. They sat in silence for a long time, watching TV. Bulma went over the things she had to do in the coming weeks. Would a simple order of protection keep Frieza away from her? How would that even be enforced? Cops would not be around her all day to ensure it was. This was why she had to leave, if only for a little while. Everything was still too... raw.

Vegeta turned his head slightly to look at Bulma. She was staring at the TV but he could tell she was not seeing it. His eyes traveled around her face. He grinded his teeth together as his eyes passed over the bruises. Vegeta inhaled and exhaled slowly. The action drew Bulma's attention and she turned to look at him in question. He stayed silent for a few more seconds before speaking.

"I want to draw you," he said.

Bulma blinked in confusion. "Draw me? Vegeta, I look terrible. A bruised face and a hacked haircut won't make a very good drawing." Her eyes followed Vegeta as he got to his feet. "I'm serious, Vegeta," she whined while he gathered his supplies from the studio.

"Quit your whining, woman. Get over here."

* * *

Yamcha whistled as he walked into the tall building across from the Trellis Hotel. He headed towards the directory and looked up and down the names. Finding the one he wanted, he walked towards the elevators at the end of the hall. He kept right on whistling until he found himself in front of a receptionist.

"May I help you, sir?" the receptionist asked.

"I think you can. I'm looking for your boss. Think you can point me in his direction?"

The receptionist raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Cold is busy. You'll have to leave a message or..." She noticed the envelope that Yamcha carried. She looked back in his face and saw he was flashing her a toothy grin. "He's in his office. Should I announce you?"

Yamcha shook his head. "That won't be necessary." He gave her a wink and walked off towards Frieza's office.

Frieza looked away from his computer screen when he heard the door to his office open. He saw the dark-haired man enter with a grin on his face. "Who are you and why are you in my office?"

"You're Frieza Cold?" Yamcha asked.

"That's what my door says. Explain yourself," Frieza said, annoyed and thinking of all the ways he was going to curse his receptionist out.

Yamcha shoved the envelope in Frieza's face. "You've been served, my good sir." Frieza took the envelope from him and opened it. "I'll be on my way. You have a nice day!" With that, Yamcha disappeared back out the door.

Frieza fumed as he looked at the contents of the envelope.  _An order of protection. That bitch_...

* * *

Bulma got out of the taxi and looked around. She stood in front of long driveway that was partially hidden by trees. Sighing, she glanced behind her to see the driver taking her bags out of the trunk. She thanked the man and took her bags from him. He drove away, leaving a cloud of dust from the pebbles on the ground. Bulma took a deep breath and started walking down the driveway. After getting through the thick brush, the driveway came out to a green pasture. At the end sat a white cottage. Bulma made her way up to it and knocked on the door.

Nervous, Bulma ran her hand through her newly shaped locks. She chuckled softly when she remembered how Juu said her new haircut was for soccer moms. Vegeta had not given much input on what he thought about her new haircut. Just that it suited her. Whatever that was supposed to mean. Thinking of him made Bulma remember that she had not told him where she was going. She had not even left him a number to contact her at since she had gotten rid of her old phone. The front door opened and Bulma was hit with a smell that was a weird mix of apple pie and gasoline. She smiled at who stood before her.

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming," the dark-eyed blonde standing in front of Bulma said. Before she could say more, Bulma flew into her and wrapped her arms around her. "I've missed you, too, baby sister."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I know. But it was getting long and I decided to end it there before moving on to the next part. Thanks for reading!


	12. Some Time Away

"So tell me about him."

Bulma looked up from her laptop where she was notating. Tights, her older sister, had taken a seat across from her on a plushy couch. If there was one thing Bulma liked about her sister's place, it was the furniture. "Tell you about whom?" she asked.

"Certainly not that bastard you finally left. I have to gather the strength every morning not to drive back to West City and castrate him for what he did to you." She shook her head free of thoughts of maiming Frieza. "But I'm talking about the one you were having the sexy illicit affair with."

"I told you about him already," Bulma said. She went back to looking at her laptop screen.

Tights shook her head. "No, you didn't. You vaguely mentioned Frieza not liking the man you were working with and that he allowed you to use his loft as refuge." She started to stir the red drink she had with a stick of celery. "You also never said you'd had an affair with him."

The pianist raised her head. Tights was right. She had only mentioned Vegeta in passing, yet she'd just unknowingly admitted to having an affair with him. She glared over at her older sister. The blonde was giving her the most annoying of shit-eating grins. Sighing, Bulma knew there was no way she would be able to talk her way out of this. She closed her laptop and set it to the side. She sniffed, noticing the drink Tights was holding.

"That smells awful," she said suddenly.

"Don't try to change the subject. Let's hear about the man who stole you away from the icicle."

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Maybe you've heard of him. Vegeta Ouji?" She watched Tights' face light up in recognition. "Yes, the artist. That's who I was working with. Turns out he moved into the empty brownstone next door. It's a small world."

Tights nodded. "It certainly is. I've never seen him. Is he hot?"

"Very. Sharp features and quite an interesting hairstyle. Lean, but still well-built. Gorgeous eyes that seem to stare right..." Bulma noticed Tights looking bored with her description. She rolled her eyes, knowing what her sister really meant by asking if Vegeta was  _hot_. "He's not too shabby in the dick department, either," she mumbled quickly.

Tights shook her head. "Considering you only have the icicle to measure up against, I'm skeptical about your idea of  _not too shabby_."

Bulma stared blankly at her sister for a moment. "I think he's glorious and even if he's what you would consider  _average_ , he certainly knows how to use it."

"Oh?" Tights got up and went to sit next to Bulma. "Details, sis," she said, bouncing eagerly.

Bulma's nose crinkled up again. "That drink really, really smells." She watched Tights polish it off in three huge gulps. She sat the glass down on the end table behind her and faced Bulma again. Bulma took deep breath. "What exactly do you want to know? How an entire encounter went down?"

"You know exactly what I want to know."

The pianist rolled her eyes. "Aside from being tremendously... effective with his... little Vegeta, he's also rather gifted with his tongue."

"How  _gifted_?"

"I would've been happy if he'd stopped there," came the quick answer. "And I kinda... reciprocated." Bulma chanced a glance at Tights. The blonde's mouth had dropped in shock. "Why are you looking at me like that? Surprised?"

"To be honest?" Tights shrugged. "Yeah."

"Tights!"

"Sorry, Bulma. You've always struck me as the strictly vanilla type. In fact, that's actually something I hoped deep down. I already have trouble imagining you actually in the act." She laughed at the look on Bulma's face. "Well, did you like it?"

Bulma shrugged. "It was different. I'd never done it before. I assume I was doing it right by his reaction to it. I guess I was just happy that I was making him happy."

"Men don't need much to be happy. They'll get theirs regardless. It's nice to hear that he's such a generous lover, though. I already like him more. I am curious to know how you two even got to that point, though. You were so disgustingly loyal to the icicle. It's out of character for you."

"If you knew Vegeta, you'd understand. He's standoffish, rude, and downright mean sometimes. But, he's also thoughtful and he listens. After so many years of not really having anyone to just talk to, it was nice to have someone actually listen to me ramble. He was a great friend before he was an amazing lover," Bulma said. She continued describing her time with Vegeta in more detail than Tights probably needed to know. Then she looked back at her sister. The blonde was smiling at her again. "What?"

"You're in love with him," she said. Bulma said nothing and looked away. "I'll take your silence and red face as affirmation. I don't necessarily condone how you went about it, but I'm glad you found someone to love. And don't you dare say you loved Frieza. I don't know what that man did to convince you he'd be husband material, but he wasn't. He wanted you as an accessory, not a wife."

Bulma sighed. "I actually really liked Frieza at first. He was sweet and driven. I guess I just liked the stability. Plus, I've never been good at dating. It's only been in the last few years that he's gotten... rough with me. He gave me some pretty awful threats whenever I thought about just kicking him out. At first, I thought they were just idle things he'd say while he was drunk. Then he proved to me that they weren't. And that was while he was sober."

Tights stared at her sister in silence for a few minutes. In the last two weeks that Bulma had been there, she'd had to stop herself from driving back to West City in the middle of the night and giving Frieza a piece of her mind. The subsequent prison sentence would be worth it, in her opinion. However, Bulma begged that she not and to stay with her. Being the awesome sister that she was, Tights begrudgingly agreed. Still, Bulma never said she could not fantasize about the horrible things she would do to Frieza if she could.

"You know he loves you too, right?" she said suddenly. Bulma turned her back towards her, a look of shock on her face. "According to you, the man went out of his way to make you happy. In fact, he sounds like an asshole but he wasn't an asshole to you. Plus, I don't know many people who would place themselves between you and a violent man. He protected you."

Bulma nodded. Then her face scrunched up yet again. "God, what was in that drink?"

"Huh? Oh it was just a bloody mary. Tabasco sauce, that steak sauce with the weird name, vodka, and some other stuff. I can't smell anything, Bulma." Tights noticed how pale her sister had gotten. "Are you okay?" The question was barely out of her mouth before Bulma ran out of the room.

* * *

Despite telling himself that he wouldn't, Vegeta dwelled on Bulma's disappearance more than he should have. He reasoned that it was not exactly a disappearance to begin with. She had told him that she was leaving. She had not told him when or where she was going. It came as a surprise when he went to the loft (Bulma had not returned to her brownstone yet) to find all her belongings gone. She did leave him a simple note.

_I'll be back_.

That was all that was written on the sticky note stuck on his refrigerator. Vegeta had called Juu to verify that Bulma had left of her own volition and the blonde confirmed it. She had received a similar message and Bulma had left her the keys to her brownstone. Juu must have sensed his concern and told him that she was sure to be back in April for the opening of the ballet they produced together. Vegeta had completely forgotten about that.

"I'm impressed. This is the best work you've done in years," Hasky said as she walked around Vegeta's studio. "This use of colors and mix of styles... I don't think I've ever seen anything like it." She continued looking over Vegeta's newest work.

He stood off to the side just watching her. Vegeta had been feeling inspired lately and had thrown himself into his work. Now that Hasky mentioned it, he had not even noticed he'd been mixing styles. That was definitely something he'd never done before. Then again, he'd been painting off of emotion. That was also something he rarely did.

"I doubt you called me here just to gush over your work. You want to use my gallery for an exhibit," Hasky said, not looking away from the paintings. "To be honest, I'm seconds away from buying these all myself."

Vegeta scoffed. "I hardly think you could afford them. But yes. I want to use your gallery. My agent will take care of everything."

Hasky nodded. "Understood. I assume you want this done after the ballet opening? That would be optimal for people who saw your work in the ballet to see more." Hasky paused when she got to the end. "I didn't know you'd taken up ink wash paintings..." The painting Hasky was looking at was of a woman. She was turned so her back was facing the viewer. Hasky squinted, wondering what the markings on the woman were supposed to be. She jumped when Vegeta came up beside her.

"I just started. That one isn't done."

The blonde watched Vegeta while he glanced over his new work. He already seemed fond of it. Hasky knew from experience that when Vegeta was fond of one of his pieces that he would never put it up for sale. She would probably never even see the finished product. It would go into some mysterious vault where he kept all the masterpieces that he could not bear to part with. That reminded her...

"So how are things with you and Miss Briefs? There are whispers that she has left the city," she said airily. She waited for Vegeta's reaction to the mention of Bulma. "I also heard that her wedding was called off. You wouldn't have anything to do with that, would you?"

Vegeta remained quiet for a few more moments and looked over his unfinished painting. Then he faced Hasky. "Why would I know anything? And how did you find out about that?"

"So it is true," Hasky said. "How did you know?"

"I was invited. Why wouldn't I be told that it was canceled? She's better off for it, anyway," he said. He turned away from his paintings and began walking away.

"Oh?" Hasky followed him back towards the front of the loft. "In any case, I thought her fiancé was creepy. A girl like that deserves so much better. You should shoot your shot, Vegeta." Hasky giggled when she saw the glare Vegeta sent her way. She wiggled her eyebrows at him. He rolled his eyes and went into the kitchenette in search of food. "Go put some real clothes on, Vegeta."

The artist looked up from the refrigerator and at Hasky. "Why?"

"Since you're using my gallery for your exhibit, I need a few particulars that Krillyn can't give me. So, let's go talk about it over lunch."

Vegeta raised an eyebrow. "Are you asking me out on a date?" He nearly laughed at the aghast expression that spread across Hasky's face. She looked downright scandalized. "You're paying."

"Whatever you say, cheapskate. I'll call for a taxi and meet you outside." Hasky watched him go upstairs and then headed towards the elevator. When she was outside, she pulled out her phone to send for a taxi. While she was waiting, she noticed a car parked at the corner. It seemed oddly out of place since there was rarely ever anyone parked on this particular street. Vegeta's neighbors did not have cars either.

A few moments later, a man with blonde hair and skin so pale he almost seemed blue came around the corner. Hasky found herself wondering how much gel he had put in his hair to get it to hold in that peculiar cut. He was almost... pretty. Maybe he was a new neighbor. He raised his eyes and leered at her before turning to face the luxury sedan he seemed to be the owner of. Hasky continued to watch him until he peeled off. His fancy car passed the taxi that pulled up in front of Hasky.

Vegeta was coming outside when he caught sight of the lavish violet car that was driving away. "Who was that?" he asked. He saw Hasky shrug and approach the taxi as the driver got out to open the door for her. Vegeta locked the door to his loft. He followed Hasky into the taxi but not before seeing the violet car making a U-turn on the street. He briefly caught sight of the blonde driver whose eyes also caught his.

_What was that about?_

* * *

Bulma was taken by surprise when a magazine dropped right into her lap. It fell onto the laptop. The sound it made in the headphones she wore caused her to curse under her breath. She glanced up and saw Tights walking past her to sit down. Her sister motioned to what she had dropped in Bulma's lap. Bulma looked back down and saw it was a gossip magazine.

She was plastered on the front cover with Frieza standing by her side. It was a picture taken from the Christmas concert red carpet. There was a sort of lightning bolt between them. Bulma read the headline:  **IT'S OVER**. Sighing, she took off her headphones.

"It was only a matter of time before they got wind of it. To be honest, I'm surprised it took them so long," Bulma said. She flipped to the cover story and saw more paparazzi pictures of her and Frieza together. "Where do they hide to take these? I never see them."

Tights laughed. "That's because with these lenses, they could be blocks away perched on some balcony and taking clear pictures of you eating at a restaurant. No longer do they have to be directly in your face." She turned on the TV and started flipping through channels. She noticed Bulma had not responded to her after a few minutes and looked over at her. The pianist was reading the article. "What's it say that has you so entranced?"

Bulma closed the magazine and tossed it on the coffee table across from her. "Somehow they found out about the restraining order. It says I'm the one who took it out on Frieza but it doesn't say why. Also, that  _my people could not be reached for comment_. Juu would never entertain these people. I just hope I don't have to field questions about this when I go back for the premiere."

"About that," Tights put the TV on mute, "don't you think you should give her a call? I'm sure she's worried sick about you. Not to mention that she'll need to start getting things ready for your return," she said.

Bulma nodded. "I should call both her and Vegeta." Her voice was near a whisper. She gazed down at the laptop's screen. She was surprising herself with how much work she was getting done. It was the first time since being with Vegeta that she felt like herself. It helped that her bruises and sprained wrist had healed in the 8 weeks of her absence. Her stomach growled, ending the silence between them. "I could really go for some tortilla chips and cream cheese."

Tights slowly turned her head to look at her baby sister. "You've got to be kidding me. That stuff together sounds horrible. Are you trying to clog your arteries?"

"I just really want some. I don't usually like it but for some reason that's what I want. Tortilla chips and that horribly thick spread. Ooh… do you have any sea salt? I think that would taste really good with it." Bulma tapped her finger on her chin and licked her lips. Tights could not quite conceive what her sister was asking for. She shook her head and went back to watching TV. Bulma continued to ponder what she was going to snack on.

* * *

"Have you ever felt like you're being watched?"

Krillyn looked up from his plate of food and at Juu. They were on a  _date_. Juu still had trouble referring to them as such. She said that she did consider him her boyfriend, though. The  _dating_  part was still new to her. But for some reason, it never felt awkward. Krillyn noticed she was mainly moving the same piece of shrimp back and forth in the last bit of buttery sauce on her plate.

"Only when Vegeta is around. That's his way of getting my attention because god forbid he actually say my name. He prefers to stare at me for a while until I finally look at him. I try to ignore him but it's just so unnerving. It's like he's burning holes into my skull." Krillyn sat his fork down and took a long swig of his wine. "But why do you ask? Do feel as that way?"

Juu nodded a little bit. She was still playing around with the last piece of shrimp. "I feel like someone is always watching me."

"I'm watching you."

The cold blonde finally met Krillyn's eyes. He was giving her a lopsided smile. That look always had her fighting a blush. No one ever looked at her like that before him. "You don't count. You're always staring. Seriously, I do think I'm either being followed or watched."

"But why?"

Juu sighed. "I think Frieza may be trying to find out if I know where Bulma is." She held up a hand when Krillyn started to speak. "I know he has an order against him, but that doesn't mean he can't send people to find out. You have no idea how connected that brat is. I should've gone for a gag order too."

"A gag order? Why?" Krillyn asked. Juu pulled out her phone and messed with it for a moment. Then she handed it to Krillyn. Krillyn looked over the article she had just pulled up. "Oh. Seems a little juvenile for him to go to gossip mags about this."

"He wants to rally public support. He's lucky the reason for the restraining order wasn't given in that little article." Juu finally popped the last shrimp into her mouth. She chewed angrily and then drank the rest of her wine. "I'm going to the bathroom." Without waiting for a response, she stood and walked away from the table.

Krillyn sighed. "I guess I'll just ask for the check then..."

They were waiting for the valet to return to with Krillyn's car when Juu got that same funny feeling again. She looked all around her, trying to see if anyone had their eyes on her. She knew someone did. She just could not figure out where. Then again, maybe she was just being more paranoid than usual. Krillyn's car pulled up just as her phone went off. Juu pulled it out and checked it. There was a new text message.

_I'm being watched_.

If Juu needed any more confirmation that her feelings were not unfounded, then that text from Vegeta gave it to her. She passed it over to Krillyn.

"Well, that's not good," he whispered.

* * *

"So how many is that?" Tights asked. She was looking at the on the white stick Bulma had just handed her.

"Seven," Bulma sighed out. She sat on the closed lid of the toilet. "Seven different pregnancy tests."

Tights shrugged. "Well, if you look at your symptoms, it makes perfect sense. Everything stinks to you. You can't keep anything down unless it's saltier than the Dead Sea. You're lazy..."

"Hey!"

"I'm just saying. You've been sleeping a lot. So it makes perfect sense." She pulled Bulma forward and raised her shirt. They looked in the mirror together. Bulma's body did not seem any different to Tights. She looked at Bulma's face. The other woman was frowning at her reflection. She turned to the side. Sure enough, there was a small, barely noticeable slope to her midsection. Anyone else would not have noticed it but Bulma knew her body. "Well, when was the last time you got laid?"

Bulma lowered her shirt. "New Year's. I can't be more than ten weeks."

"And you're not on birth control or anything? You just rawed it?" Tights asked. Bulma nodded slowly and the blonde rolled her eyes. "I'm guessing Vegeta was the lucky man that night," she said. She watched Bulma's face contort. Then she burst out into tears. It had come so suddenly that Tights could only watch for a moment. Then she engulfed her younger sister in a hug. "Are you afraid Vegeta might not go for it?"

The pianist shook her head. "That's not it." A fresh wave of tears overcame her. She clung to her sister as she cried. "I don't... know! I don't know who the father is!"

Tights pulled back slightly. "You and Frieza... That same night?"

Bulma sniffled and shook her head. "I was with Vegeta on New Year's Eve. Frieza and I... That happened New Year's night when I got home." Bulma's lip quivered. She turned and abruptly left the room, leaving a confused Tights. She went to her bedroom and sat down on the bed. A few moments later, Tights followed her.

"Bulma, what happened with Frieza?" Tights' voice was calm and low. Bulma shook her head and mumbled something. Tights heard her just fine, though. "It does matter, Bulma. What. Happened?"

With a sigh, Bulma ran a hand through her hair. "We got into a fight. Like an actual fight. It was the fight that left me looking like I'd lost a boxing match. After the fight, Frieza took me upstairs and... we had sex. I don't really remember it because he hit me so hard that I lost consciousness at some point."

Tights stared blankly at Bulma for a moment. "He raped you." It was a statement. Bulma nodded slowly. "Bulma..."

"I left the next day. He found me at Vegeta's and I that's when I called you. You're the only person I've told."

"Why didn't you go to the police?" Tights went and sat down next to Bulma.

Bulma chuckled deprecatingly. "First, all I wanted to do was get the hell away from him. Anything other than that wasn't on my mind. Second, who would believe me? The very first time he hit me I went to the police. That's when I found out what Frieza's father did for a living."

"He's an officer?"

Bulma nodded. "Chief of the fucking police. All the bastard told Frieza was to avoid my face next time. Oh and that he was  _looking forward to dinner on Saturday_." She leaned against her sister. Tights wrapped her arm around her. "I wish Mom was here. She'd know what to do."

"If Mom was still here we'd be bailing her out of jail. Beneath that sweet and sometimes ditzy exterior was a mama bear the likes of which this world has never seen," Tights said. She earned a small chuckle from Bulma. "What are you gonna do?"

The pianist inhaled and exhaled deeply. "Regardless of who the father is, it seems cruel to not to at least tell them before I do anything. Is there a way to do a paternity test before birth?"

"I'm sure there is. But are you sure you want to even have a kid?" Tights watched Bulma shrug. She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Listen. I'm behind you with whatever you choose to do, but remember it's your choice." She rubbed Bulma's arm for reassurance. She felt the younger woman relax against her. Tights stroked her hair and thought of all the ways she would maim Frieza if he ever came within a mile of her sister again.

* * *

Hasky walked outside of her gallery. She glanced up at the moving truck that had just pulled up in the front:  _Son Movers_. They had come recommended by Vegeta. Well, he had not recommended them. He'd more or less told Hasky that's who he wanted handling his precious items. She smiled at the thought. Vegeta had always been quite particular about these things. A man with long, wild black hair got out of the driver's side. He was the one who came up to her.

"Good afternoon, ma'am," he said.

Hasky grinned at him. "Good afternoon. You've brought me Vegeta's work?"

The man grinned back at her. "That I have. Any particular place you want us to unload this stuff?"

The blonde nodded. "Take them upstairs. Vegeta should have them all marked with numbers. Just make sure they stay in order. You can leave them covered. I have others who will prepare them for the exhibit," she answered.

"Raditz, stop flirting and get over here!" came a voice from behind the truck. They both looked in that direction. Goku was standing there, looking impatient. Raditz mouthed something derogatory towards him. "I'm telling Mom! Now hurry up!"

Hasky giggled. "I would have never guessed you two were brothers. Anything else you need from me before you get started?"

"Your name would be nice," Raditz said. Hasky smirked and pointed up to the sign above the door. " _Hasky_. Pretty."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Hasky looked him over again, "but I could pretend for someone like you. You better get started before your brother throws something at you." She winked and turned away to go back inside. She knew he was watching her walk away and smirked to herself.

The brothers finished rather quickly and Raditz happily left with Hasky's number secured in his pocket. He had spent half his time flirting with her and the other half arguing with his brother. Hasky thought he was cute. Rough around the edges, but cute enough. She was standing behind the counter at the front of the gallery when she heard the door open. Frowning in confusion, she turned towards the door where a large man with long black hair that was pulled back into a ponytail was strolling through. He seemed familiar but Hasky could not place where she had seen him before.

"We're closed," Hasky said. The man appeared to ignore her and continued looking around at the paintings that still adorned the walls. He disappeared down one of the aisles. Sighing, Hasky walked from around the counter and towards where the man had gone. "Excuse me, sir, but we're..."

He whirled on her. "The Ouji exhibit will be here?" he asked suddenly.

Hasky raised an eyebrow. To her knowledge, not many people knew about the exhibit. It was not set to open until July. Not to mention that was only the private opening. Vegeta did not want it opened to the public until August. She crossed her arms. "It will not be open to the public until late summer. Sorry, but you'll have to wait til then. Now, if you..."

"There is a private opening?"

"There is, but it is by invitation only. No, I do not have the list and I am not liberty to say who will be invited. Now, sir..." He cut her off by taking out a card and shoving it in her face. She took it from him and looked down at it. Apparently, this man's name was  _Dore_.

"I work for the District Attorney. He's a fan of this Ouji person and would like to come. Perhaps you could put in a word to Ouji for an invite." The way he said it made Hasky believe it was not a request.

"I'll pass along the word,  _Mr. Dore_. Whether your boss gets an invite is not up to me."

Dore simply smiled. He leaned down to her face. "I'm sure you can put in a good word for him. Just tell him the Colds request it." He stepped away from her and gave her a small nod. "Have a nice night, ma'am."

Hasky watched him until she could not even see him on the street any longer. She took another look at the card.  _West City District Attorney Cooler Cold_ , she read.  _I'll put in a good word, alright_.

* * *

It was March 28th and Juu was officially worried. Bulma had still not made any contact with her. The opening to the ballet was in few days. Of course, she had dresses lined up for whenever Bulma did decide to get in touch with her. But would there be enough time for everything to be prepared? Hair, makeup... Even alterations for the dress if needed. Not to mention shoes!The blonde was pondering this while looking for a dress for herself. She typically did these things at the last minute, but she could afford to. Not much thought went into what she wore because her mind was always on Bulma. Besides, Juu knew she looked good in anything.

She walked by the window of the dress shop she was in. The gleam of the sun caught her eye and she took aa haphazard look out of it. She turned away just as quickly, but then turned back around. There was that same dark car she had seen before. When Vegeta had described the car that had been tailing him lately, she had not had trouble connecting the dots at all. The same car had been tailing her as well.

"Son of a bitch," she whispered. She pulled her phone out to make a call. Just as she did, it started to ring. Without even looking at the number, she answered it. "What?" It came out sharper than she wanted it to.

" _Bad time_?"

It was Bulma. " _ **Where the fuck have you been**_? Why haven't you called? It's been three damn months. I didn't even get a text saying you had arrived to wherever you skulked off to. Just a simple  _I'll be back_. What the hell, Bulma? And we only have a few days to get you ready..." She heard Bulma giggling. "I find nothing funny about this," she hissed, trying to keep her voice down.

" _I'm sorry, Juu. You just sound so... Never mind. It doesn't matter. What does matter is that I'm back_."

Juu blinked a few times. "You're back? Here? In West City? Where are you?"

" _I'm at the Hotel Dragon. You know? Where that New Year's Eve party was. Can you come_..."

"I'll be there in thirty." She hung up and yanked a random black dress off the rack. She glanced back out of the window. The car was still there. She knew she could not take a taxi. They would probably just follow her. And if they were following her for the reason she assumed, it was best if she lost them completely. That meant she would have to do one thing.

28 minutes and 11 seconds later, Juu was stepping onto the steps that led to the subway. She inhaled the  _fresher_  air deeply. She hated the subway with a deep passion but desperate times called for desperate measures. She glanced around. The Hotel Dragon was about a block down.

* * *

Tights opened the door to the suite she and Bulma were staying in. She recognized Juu immediately. "Long time, no see, Blondie," she said.

Juu stared at her in shock for a moment. Why had it never dawned on her that Bulma would go stay with her sister? She so often forgot Tights even existed. "I can't believe she went all the way to Omori Island," she mumbled with a shake of her head. Tights laughed and stepped to the side to let her in.

"Well, I did say I wanted to get away." Bulma came into Juu's line of sight when they turned the corner. Juu opened her mouth to give a snarky retort but choked on the words at Bulma's appearance. "Surprise," she said with a grin.

Juu blinked a few times. There was a lot she wanted to say but the look on Bulma's face kept her from it. Instead, she smirked. "You really should've called me sooner. Now I have to get a whole new rack for you."

"Trust me. I didn't think she'd be that big at sixteen weeks either," Tights said from behind her.

"Sixteen weeks?" Juu looked between the sisters. "So that means..."

"It's a long story," the sisters said together.

Juu walked over to the couch in the sitting area of the suite. She sat down and crossed her legs. "I have nothing to do for the rest of the day."


	13. We Meet Again

"It looks like I'm wearing a tent."

"Well, it is called a  _tent dress_  for a reason."

"This is the best they had?"

"Unless you want the world to know about your  _delicate_  condition now, then you'll just have to deal with it. I still can't believe you're just sixteen weeks. You sure only one is in there?"

Bulma stood in front a mirror while a seamstress moved around her. Even though she was not a fan of the dusty blue strapless dress, it certainly concealed her midsection just fine. She had her slightly enlarged breasts to thank for that. Juu stood off to the side, watching the seamstress make adjustments to Bulma's dress. Bulma took her eyes off her reflection and looked in Juu's direction. She could easily read the pensive expression of the blonde's face.

"What is it, Juu?" she asked.

Juu narrowed her eyes for a moment before sighing. "Are you sure you even want to go through with this?" The blonde watched Bulma glare out at her out of the corner of her eye. "I mean the premiere. I know I can't change your mind about  _that_ ; at least not until you've spoken to Vegeta... and Frieza."

Bulma shuddered at the thought of bringing up her surprise pregnancy to Frieza. She could already imagine how that conversation would go. She was not looking forward to it. She had already decided to tell Vegeta first, though. "Yes. I have to go. It would look suspicious if I didn't. You know the gossip columns are just itching to get a glimpse of me since I've been MIA for so long. They haven't been harassing you, have they?"

"No more than they usually do." She took note of Bulma's posture. "You can't stand like that, Bulma."

The pianist looked down at her body. She relaxed after noticing that she had been leaning back somewhat. "Oh. I don't even notice that. Maybe some heels will disguise that better. Is Tights back yet? I'm starving."

* * *

Vegeta stood on the corner a block away from the theater. He could see the celebrities arriving and posing on the red carpet. He was in no mood to deal with the red carpet alone. Krillyn had told him he needed to pose for a few minutes and then make his way inside. He thought it was stupid, but he might as well just hurry and get it over with. With a sigh, he started walking down the street towards the theater. Just as he was stepping into the entrance, a limo pulled up nearly beside him. The photographers turned their attention to the newcomer. Vegeta was about to sneak past when the door opened.

A blonde with a pixie cut and dark eyes got out. She was wearing a simple long-sleeved cocktail dress. She stepped to the side and held her hand out. The next passenger grabbed her hand and she helped them out of the limo. Vegeta stopped completely.

Bulma smiled and waved at the photographers. The blue dress she was wearing seemed to swallow her. She somehow made it look elegant. Her hair had been neatly shaped and swooped. There was a dewy look about her and she seemed to be... glowing. Juu followed Bulma out of the limo and guided the pianist to the red carpet.

Flanked by the two blondes, Bulma finally noticed Vegeta standing there. Her smile brightened. "Vegeta!" She moved forward and threw her arms around him, surprising him completely. "I missed you," she whispered.

Vegeta stood there not really knowing what to do. He awkwardly patted her back and heard her giggle. She released him and stepped back. Vegeta cleared his throat. "It's... good to see you," he said. "How long have you been back?"

"I got here a few days ago. Had to get ready, you know? I want you to meet someone." Bulma stepped away and grabbed hold of the dark-eyed blonde. She dragged her forward and presented her to Vegeta. "Vegeta, this is my big sister Tights. Tights, this is Vegeta."

Tights raised an eyebrow. "So this is the infamous Vegeta. Bulma has told me  **ALL**  about you," she said with a wink. She looked him over and whistled. "She certainly got the  _dark and handsome_  part right. Makes me wonder if everything she said was right..."

Bulma playfully slapped Tights' arm. "Juu, take my sister inside. I'll stay out here for a few more pictures then meet you guys inside."

"As you wish, my lady." Juu gave Vegeta a small smirk as she walked away with Tights.

Vegeta held his arm out a little. Bulma grinned and took hold of him. They moved down the carpet to pose. "You never mentioned having a sister," he said quietly.

"You never asked." Bulma waved at the photographers with a smile plastered on her face.

"So you've been with her all this time?"

"She was the only place I knew I wouldn't be found." Bulma looked at Vegeta when they entered the theater. "Juu didn't even know, though I'm surprised she didn't figure it out. People seem to forget I even have a sister. I'm sure Tights prefers it that way, though. She's extremely private. I only got in touch with Juu a few days ago. I wanted to call you but Tights wouldn't even let me call Juu until it was time for me to come back. But enough about that. How have you been?"

Vegeta grunted. "Busy," was his answer.

Bulma shook her head. "Busy? You've gotten some art done?"

"I have."

"May I see it?"

"I was hoping to catch both of you at some point tonight, but that you're together makes everything better."

Bulma's smile fell from her face. She turned around. "Cooler," she said plainly.

Sure enough, Frieza's older brother stood before her. He looked as smooth and smug as ever. Zangya was still on his arm. Bulma was incredibly surprised by that fact. Rarely did the fickle man stay with the same woman more than a few months. He must  _really_ like Zangya.

"You seem surprised to see me, Bulma," Cooler said. He watched her eyes flick from side to side for a moment and chuckled. "Don't worry. My baby brother is minding your protection order."

"Then why are you here?" the pianist hissed.

"I was invited. Most of the city's officials were. I believe the mayor is somewhere around here as well. You're looking," he looked her over, "healthy."

Bulma narrowed her eyes at the backhanded compliment. She put on a fake grin. "Thank you. You're looking rotund yourself." She heard Zangya cough to hide a chuckle. Cooler glared over at her and she straightened up. "You look beautiful tonight, Zangya."

"Thank you, Bulma," Zangya said with a genuine smile.

Cooler turned his attention to Vegeta, who had merely been watching the strained exchange. "Did your dealer give you my message?"

Vegeta stared blankly at Cooler for a few seconds. "Yes," he replied. He could see Bulma turn to look at him in question but ignored her. "And I haven't decided whether I want to invite you or not."

If the air between them was cold before, it was downright frigid now. Bulma was about to inquire as to what Vegeta and Cooler were talking about when a bell sounded. It was the 5-minute warning for the start of the ballet. Vegeta took hold of her arm and pulled her away. Bulma gave Cooler one last look before disappearing into the crowd.

Cooler smirked when he could no longer see Vegeta and Bulma. Frieza had been right about that man's tenacity and gall. Clearly Vegeta was one who would not intimidated by his position. Nor would he succumb to threats easily. At least, not his less heavy-handed threats. Cooler felt Zangya tug on his arm and allowed her to lead him in the opposite direction. He might as well enjoy himself while he was here.

* * *

"What was Cooler talking about? An invitation to what?" Bulma asked as they hurried through the crowd.

"The private soft opening of my art exhibit," Vegeta said quickly.

"You didn't say you were showing your art off."

"I didn't get a chance to."

"Am I invited?"

"Woman..." They arrived at an elevator and entered it. As with the time before, Vegeta glared at the people who were entering behind them and they all hesitated before entering. The door slid closed and Bulma giggled. Vegeta looked over at her. "Why wouldn't you be invited? You'd actually have to be in the city for it, though. I don't allow cameras."

Bulma punched Vegeta lightly in the arm. "Of course I'll be here! When is it?"

"August," he said. The elevator opened on their floor and Vegeta pulled Bulma out. He missed the forlorn look on her face.

 _August? I'll be big as a house by August_ , Bulma found herself thinking. She was due in September. Well, it probably would not matter by then. She had already resolved to tell both men within the next few days. She had to figure out how she was going to get in touch with Frieza.  _I could just have Juu do it. Or Tights_.

The duo entered the booth just as the theater was starting to quiet down. Bulma was surprised to see how full the booth was. Along with Tights and Juu, the Sons were also there. Krillyn was sitting beside Juu. Sitting in the row in front of the Sons were two people Bulma had never seen before. She could only guess by the hair that this was Vegeta's brother. Her suspicions were confirmed when the small man turned his head towards her. But it was the smaller woman beside him who spoke.

"Where have you been, Vegeta?" Gure asked. She was glaring at Vegeta disapprovingly.

Vegeta narrowed his eyes. "Not that it's any of your business, but I was escorting Miss Briefs."

" _Miss Briefs_?" Gure finally looked at Bulma, who waved shyly. Gure stood up and made her way over to Bulma. "Oh my! I didn't even see you there! It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Briefs. I'm Gure, Vegeta's sister-in-law. This is my husband, Tarble."

Bulma shook her hand and then Tarble's. "Nice to meet you. You can just call me Bulma, though."

Chichi watched Bulma from her seat. The light was dim but even she could tell something was quite different about Bulma. She nudged Goku. "Does Bulma look different to you?" she asked.

Goku looked up from his popcorn, at Chichi, and then at Bulma. "She looks happy," he said plainly. "Isn't that a good thing?"

Chichi laughed a little. "Yes, Goku. That is a good thing." She saw Bulma turn her head to look at her. The pianist gave a little wave and Chichi waved back. "I'd say she is very happy."

The theater began to darken just as Bulma took her seat. She tried to lower herself in a way that did not make it obvious she was compromised in bending forward. She sat down hard and less than gracefully. It earned a loud snicker from Tights. Bulma glared at her sister, who just shrugged. The curtain rose and the beginning chords of Bulma's music began to play.

* * *

30 minutes later, Bulma was trying to hide her squirming. Despite the fact that she had foregone eating before the show, she now had really had to go visit the restroom. She shifted in her seat, trying to alleviate the pressure on her bladder. It worked for all of 15 minutes. That 15 minutes was long enough for the intermission to start. Now all Bulma had to do was figure out how to stand without making it obvious she was pregnant.

Tights noticed her sister's frustration and took her hand. "Let's go to the toilet." She pulled Bulma up to her feet and gave her a wink. Bulma smiled and followed her out of the box. "Is there a private restroom in this place?" she asked.

"Yeah. I'll..."

"Wait a second!"

Bulma turned around to see Chichi walking to catch up with them. "Hey, Chichi. Are you liking the... Chichi, you're kinda close," she said when Chichi got right in her face. The younger woman looked her over and then stepped back. She raised an eyebrow and Bulma knew that she knew. Rolling her eyes, she motioned for Chichi to follow them.

* * *

"The backdrops are really nice, Vegeta," Krillyn said.

"Yeah. Between the art and Bulma's music, you almost don't need the dancers," Goku quipped from his seat. Vegeta did not quite know how to respond to that, so he gave a simple grunt of gratitude. Goku seemed to understand. "When is the opening of your exhibit?"

Krillyn snapped. "That's right! I need you to finalize the guest list so that I can send out invitations." He began fiddling with his cell phone.

"Send an invitation to the district attorney," Vegeta said quietly.

Krillyn frowned. "The district attorney? You mean Cooler Cold? Why on earth would you invite him?"

"Because he asked nicely," Vegeta replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Goku and Krillyn exchanged confused glances. "Just do it. The rest of the list is fine."

Krillyn shrugged. "If you say so. What about your brother?"

"They don't need invitations. Just make sure they're on the list."

* * *

" **HE DID WHAT**?"

"Keep your voice down!" Tights hissed at Chichi.

Bulma rolled her eyes as she exited the stall in the private bathroom. She almost felt like a brand new person. But now that she had relieved herself, her hunger made itself even more known. She wanted pizza (or maybe hot dogs) but she knew she was not going to get any in the theater. The best she could probably do was popcorn. The mere thought of the buttery snack made her nauseous.

"Bulma? Bulma, are you listening?" Chichi's voice drifted into the forefront of Bulma's mind and she glanced up from washing her hands. Chichi sighed. "Have you told anyone else?"

"The only other person who knows is Juu. I haven't told Vegeta or Frieza. I'm curious as to how you figured it out, though. I thought I was doing a good job of hiding it. No one else has said anything." Bulma frowned for a moment. "Well, Cooler all but called me fat. I'm not fat. Just a little... swollen." She looked at herself in the mirror. She was a little meatier around her neck and arms. But that was normal, right?

Chichi knew the face Bulma was making. She knew where her train of thought was heading. "You're not fat, Bulma. I'd be a little worried if you weren't gaining a little weight. As for how I knew, makeup can't create a glow like that. That dress sure is hiding it well, though."

Bulma tore her eyes away from herself in the mirror and turned to face Chichi and Tights. "I feel like I'm wearing a big down comforter."

"Well, it makes your tits look great," Tights said. Both Chichi and Bulma glared at her. "Just stating facts."

"Anyway," Chichi turned back to Bulma, "how are you going to tell them?"

The pianist walked over to the plush sofa in the front of the powder room. She sat down with a sigh. "Well, I'm going to try and tell Vegeta tonight. As for Frieza, I'm going to have his brother set up a meeting. I'll tell him then."

"And... You're okay with everything?" Chichi watched Bulma nod. She smiled. "Well, if you're happy, then I'm happy. I still want to kill Frieza, though."

"Get in line. His ass is mine if I ever see him near Bulma again," Tights said, crossing her arms.

Bulma rolled her eyes and shook her head. "No one will be killing anyone. Help me back up." She reached out with both hands.

* * *

Vegeta's eyes opened when he felt Bulma sit down hard beside him. He looked over at her. The action had seemed to take a lot out of her. He was about to ask if she was all right when the theater began to darken once again. The curtain rose and Vegeta's art for  _green_  was up. Bulma's eyes widened and she sat forward in her seat. She recognized this dancer as the quiet one: Kale. Apparently it would be a solo. She remembered what  _green_  had stood for. She had to remind herself to resist touching her growing womb. She jumped slightly when she felt something take her hand. She glanced to her left and saw Tights holding on to her. Bulma smiled and leaned against her sister.

Bulma had not realized she'd drifted off until she heard the loud, strong opening chords of the final color:  _red_. She sat up straight and looked around the box. Everyone seemed to be watching intently. She sat up straight and settled in her seat.

"Did you have a good nap?"

The pianist jumped at the whisper in her right ear. She turned to see Vegeta looking at her. "You caught me.  _Green_  was such a soothing piece," she replied with a smile. Vegeta shook his head and looked back out towards the stage. Bulma followed his lead and continued watching the last of the ballet.

The last notes of the coda sounded and the curtain fell. There was a small moment of silence. Then the audience erupted into applause. Bulma looked around as everyone stood. She decided it was best to remain seated and still enthusiastically applauded. The curtain rose a few feet and the three stars came back out and took their bows. It came as a surprise when the dancers motioned towards the box and the spotlight was suddenly blinding everyone in it. Tights took Bulma's hand and pulled her up. Mumbling her gratitude, Bulma put a smile on and waved down at the audience.

For his part, Vegeta felt mildly awkward having the spotlight on him. He looked over at Bulma. She seemed to handling it better than he was. He wanted nothing more than to sit back down out of the bright light. Tights having to help Bulma to her feet had not gone unnoticed by him. Was she hurt in some way? He was pulled from his thoughts when the spotlight finally left them.

"Ugh. I think I'll be seeing little stars in my eyes for the rest of the night. I'm starving," Tights said. "I'm going back to the hotel. I know you have to stay here for a while and play nice. What do you want me to tell Juu to get?"

Bulma's mouth watered slightly at the thought of food. "Something greasy. I'm tired of that healthy crap you've been shoving at me."

Tights smirked. "You'd be three times as big as you are if I hadn't stopped your poor eating habits. I'll let you cheat tonight but only because your music was so painfully beautiful. See ya!" Tights looked around Bulma and at Vegeta. "It was nice meeting you, handsome."

The pianist watched her sister leave the box. Juu was standing near the back of the box on her phone. Krillyn was beside her, also on his phone. Goku and Chichi were talking with Tarble and Gure. That left her and Vegeta to their devices. She noticed Vegeta was staring back out at the theater below them. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Vegeta smirked at the saying. "Your sister is..."

"... a character. Forgive her crassness. She tricked me into telling her all about you." Bulma watched Vegeta look at her in question. " _All about you_ ," she reiterated.

"You didn't tell her about..."

Bulma shrugged. "She wanted to know. Don't worry. I gave her a gleaming assessment of you and your abilities." She laughed at the horrified expression on his face. She took his hand and began pulling him towards the back of the box. "Hey. Can I ask you something?"

"What is it?"

Before they got to the door, Bulma released him. "Come to my hotel room tonight." Vegeta raised an eyebrow and Bulma shook her head. "Not that I would be opposed to it if it led there, but  _that's_  not why. I just want to... catch up. I haven't seen you in months and I missed my friend."

"Your friend?" Vegeta rolled his eyes. "Fine." He stiffened when Bulma kissed his cheek. It was the first time she'd shown him affection where anyone could see. From the look on her face, she seemed happy about it as well.

* * *

It did not take Juu as long as she thought it would to find Cooler again. It appeared that he was speaking with some shady-looking men. She sauntered right up to him and crossed her arms. Cooler noticed her rather quickly and flashed her a grin. Juu held up a hand to silence him before he had a chance to speak.

"I need you to set up a meeting with your brother," she said.

Cooelr appeared surprised. "The order is still in effect."

"I'm aware of that. It doesn't mean that they can't meet on supervised terms. Here." Juu handed him a card. "Call me when you've told your brother and I will tell you when and where. The sooner, the better."

"May I ask why you need to see Frieza?"

"You may, but I may not answer." With that, Juu turned on her heel and walked away. Being in his presence made her more uncomfortable than being around Frieza.

* * *

 _"Bulma Briefs finally made an appearance tonight! The ballet she scored,_ The Art of the Heart _, opened and is already receiving rave reviews. Here she is, pictured with the ever-elusive artist Vegeta Ouji. She is looking as beautiful as ever."_

" _Yes. She was absolutely radiant tonight. When asked what attributed to her magnificent glow, she simply said all she did was write music and rest. She also said she's enjoying the single life."_

" _Oh I know. But doesn't she just look adorable with Vegeta? As far as I know, he's never been romantically linked to anyone..."_

"Watching that gossip trash? I've always thought you were above such things," Cooler said as he walked into the room.

Frieza shut the TV off and tossed the remote on the coffee table. He turned to see Cooler walking across the room. He'd known his brother had attended the ballet. Cooler had been invited by the production company; a number of prominent government officials had been. They probably had no idea about his connection with Frieza. Obviously, Bulma's restraining order kept Frieza from going.

"How was it?" Frieza asked.

Across the room, Cooler was pouring himself a brandy. "Objectively? It was beautiful. Bulma can really write an exceptional piece of music. The art was also amazing. Those two make a talented duo." Cooler chuckled at the look his brother was giving him. "Come now, Frieza. Credit must be given where it is due."

"Whatever. Did you talk to her?" Frieza asked.

"I did. Not long, though. She was with Ouji. He is a stubborn one. He seemed adamant on keeping our conversation short. Something seemed different about her, though." Cooler tapped his chin.

"Looked like she gained like ten pounds," Zangya flounced past them. "Especially in her chest area. Clearly she didn't just write and relax on her vacation. She ate well, too." She giggled as she disappeared into the kitchen.

Frieza looked back at Cooler who simply shrugged. "She's right. She did look a little... healthier. I suppose it wasn't that noticeable to anyone else. Also, her assistant asked me to set up a meeting with you."

"What?" Frieza watched Cooler nod. "Doesn't that go against the order?"

"Not if it's set up through the proper channels. So we'll do this the right way. I don't need you getting into any more trouble. It'll make me look bad." Cooler took out the card Juu had given him. "I'll make the call tomorrow. That Vegeta Ouji certainly is a piece of work."

Zangya laughed as she reentered the room. "I thought he was quite interesting. So intense and unreadable. I couldn't tell if he was annoyed or just indifferent to you, Cooler. My money is on the latter."

"Yes, well. I can expect my invitation to his exhibit soon."

"Didn't he say he wasn't going to invite you?" Zangya asked, sitting down next to Frieza.

Cooler shook his head. "He said he hadn't decided yet. But I did ask very nicely."

* * *

Vegeta knocked on the double doors to the suite at the Hotel Dragon. The artist remembered vividly the last time he had been at this hotel. It had been the night Bulma muttered in her post-coital haze that she loved him. Now that he thought about it, he'd never actually addressed that with her. Perhaps that is what she wanted to talk about tonight. He still did not know how he would go about discussing it.

He did not have to wait long before the one of the doors swung open. Tights stood there, regarding him slowly. Without a word, she stepped to the side. Vegeta took her silent invitation and entered. The suite was warm and cozy despite its size. Vegeta stood awkwardly in the foyer, glancing around. He heard the door shut behind him and turned his head.

"Well don't just stand there,  _Dark and Handsome_. Bulma is waiting in the bedroom," Tights said. She pointed towards the door on the far side of the living area. Then she was off back towards the kitchen. The artist lingered for a few moments before walking towards the bedroom. He gave it a knock.

Bulma jumped when she heard the knock at the door. "Uh... Just a second!" She looked at herself in the mirror. She ran her hands through her hair to smooth it back. She looked herself over once more and then nodded. "Come in!"

Vegeta opened the door to see Bulma sitting at the edge of the bed. She was dressed in a red pajama set that looked far too big for her. Her hair was brushed back. Even though she no longer wore any makeup, Vegeta noticed she still seemed... glowy. It was a strange phenomenon. He shut the door behind him and stood there, not really knowing what to do.

Bulma noticed his apprehension and gave him a smile. "You can sit down, Vegeta. I won't bite." She patted the bed beside her. Vegeta rolled his eyes and walked over to the bed. He sat down beside her. Bulma cleared her throat. "So, um, what did you do all this time?"

The artist looked at her. She was looking down at her lap. "You already know what I've been up to. But outside of what I told you, nothing special," he said plainly. Bulma nodded. "You?"

"I actually spent the time composing. I didn't have a piano at Tights' place but I bought a decent laptop and composing software," she answered.

"You composed? For an album?"

Bulma shook her head and smiled at him. "Actually I composed an entire symphony. I wish I had brought it with me. I put it together on the program but I really want to hear it with live instruments."

"An entire symphony?" Vegeta raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. But I take it you didn't want to speak to me about what we did during your time away."

The pianist chuckled dryly. "Yeah. I'm just stalling. I have something really important to tell you." Bulma got to her feet and walked a few steps ahead of Vegeta. Then she turned around to face him.

Vegeta stared at her face for a moment, wondering what she was doing with her arms. They had circled around her midsection, holding the sizable "bump" there. It took a moment but Vegeta realized what she was doing. He looked back up at her face. "You're pregnant," he stated.

"Surprise, I guess."

"A surprise indeed."

Bulma shuffled from side to side. While she was glad his reaction wasn't to yell at her about irresponsibility or something, the... apathy was almost as bad. She had not expected him to jump for joy but it also felt like the calm before the storm. Bulma knew that was at least true. She sighed and started to walk away. Before she got past him, Vegeta grabbed her arm. He pulled her back around to stand in front of him.

"How far along are you?"

"About sixteen weeks."

"Sixteen weeks... That would make me the father," Vegeta said.

The pianist bit her lip. "Um, about that..."

* * *

Tights was facing the bedroom door and sipping red wine from a rather large glass when Vegeta flung it open and marched out. Bulma followed after him. "I take it you told him about what happened?"

Vegeta stopped and glared at Tights. "You knew? She told you about it?"

"Of course. She told me as soon as we found out she was pregnant; tears and all. But she doesn't want to pursue anything on it." Tights shrugged. "If it was up to me, I'd go beat him senseless myself. Slowly. Painfully. Castration would be involved."

Vegeta faces Bulma. She was looking down at her feet dejectedly. She looked close to tears. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Well is there any way you could find out which of us it is?"

"As a matter of fact, there is!" Tights said happily. "We can get it done tomorrow. Now go back in there and comfort her."

Bulma glared at her older sister, who just waved. She rolled her eyes and grabbed Vegeta. He allowed himself to be pulled back into the bedroom. She closed the door behind them and returned to her bed. She sat down hard and sighed. Vegeta sat across from her on a loveseat. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

Vegeta raised an eyebrow. "What are you apologizing for? Your condition is not your fault," he said.

Bulma snorted. "That depends on who ends up being the father," she said with a chuckle. That earned a roll of the eyes from Vegeta. "Well, it's true. We know how babies are made and yet we..." She waved her hand.

Vegeta narrowed his eyes. "Well, we'll just have to be more careful the next time we..." He mocked her hand movements. Bulma stuck her tongue out at him. "So childish."

She was about to give him a sharp retort when the doorbell to the suite rang. Bulma shot up from the bed and went outside the room. Tights was letting Juu in. Krillyn was following after her with a few brown paper bags. Bulma saw the grease stains and licked her lips.

Juu saw Bulma coming. "Do you know how hard it is to find a restaurant that sells footlong chili dogs and curly fries topped with cheese at one in the morning? I'm not even sure I should give you this ridiculously fattening food."

Tights nodded. "Yes. I can smell the clogged arteries from here," she said with a grimace.

Bulma grabbed one of the bags from Krillyn and looked inside. "The concern you both have for my eating habits is duly noted. But I said I wanted something greasy. Juu, you are a darling for getting this for me," she said and hustled over to a table.

Krillyn noticed Vegeta leaning in the doorway of Bulma's bedroom. "Didn't expect to see you here, Vegeta. I think I got enough food, though," he said. "So did Bulma tell you the good news?"

Vegeta frowned at the smaller man. "Why am I the last to know?"

"I literally just found out three days ago. Bulma didn't tell anyone." Juu poured herself some wine and sat down beside Bulma. "Are you excited to be a father?"

" _Fatherhood_  was never on my bucket list. And I don't even know if I am the father. So how can I be excited?"

Everyone except Bulma stared at him for a few moments. Bulma just continued eating her chili dogs and fries. "Well, I never expected to become a mother. But, the idea has definitely grown on me."

"More like  _in_  you," Tights said under her breath. Bulma heard her and shot her a look. "Don't you dare narrow those baby blues at me. Personally, I hope the little parasite is Vegeta's. If it isn't, that asshole would still be running around in your life. And slow down, Bulma. You'll give yourself indigestion if you don't come up for air."

"Oh hush," Bulma growled. She did obey what her sister told her, though. "Well, I do hope the idea grows on you. Want one? They're really good." She held out a chili dog wrapped in foil.

"Call the press. She's sharing food."

"Tights!"


End file.
